


Find The Queen

by ArcanumArcanorum



Series: Dean's Top 13 Zepp Traxx [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: (maybe bittersweet ymmv), Canon-Compliant, Dancing, Discovery, F/M, Fix-It, Happy Ending, Heaven, Is it MCD if the characters are all already dead, Led Zeppelin References, M/M, Married Dean Winchester/Castiel, Meta, Multi, Non-Explicit Sexual Content, Ocean, Philosophy, Road Trip, Roadtrip, Sam and Eileen won't show up till later, Song Lyrics, TheirLoveWasReal, Travel, canon-divergent, carry on, finale denialism, it's HEAVEN, liminal space, literally everyone is dead but that's ok, myth, the john/mary is light i promise, there's steampunk and noir in there somewhere, unrepentant lyrics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-22
Updated: 2021-02-22
Packaged: 2021-03-19 09:35:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 21,447
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29624298
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArcanumArcanorum/pseuds/ArcanumArcanorum
Summary: A finale fix-it fic featuring a broader cast of characters, telling the adventures Dean had along the road and what--and who--he found along the way.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester, Eileen Leahy/Sam Winchester, John Winchester/Mary Winchester
Series: Dean's Top 13 Zepp Traxx [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2182767
Comments: 40
Kudos: 76
Collections: Their Love Was Real: a Destiel & Saileen Fanworks Challenge





	1. Act 1: Why We Are

**Author's Note:**

> 15.20 Repair; filling the empty spaces in all our fics and canon.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean has it all: Peace, and Freedom. But what does that mean?

Dean Winchester blazed down dusty trails of infinite freedom. Heaven was no longer dark and grim, lit only by a distorted moon; the sun stayed high as long as he needed it, and time was largely irrelevant. He considered heading back to the roadhouse more than once, and in many ways felt he was there the entire time. The jukebox of his soul played instead over the tapedeck, drumming at a needlessly long drum solo on his Zeppelin top tracks across his wheel like he hadn't since he was young. He felt young again.

His soul was so free, it might have been hours, days, weeks,or years before he finally slowed. He had seen fields in Iowa, wonders of balls of yarn. No distance was too far for a Floyd show; but somehow they faded like childhood memories, not even sure where he had already gone.

Nothing and no one in his rear view mirror. No one in the passenger's seat.

That was a good thing, right?

The Impala put itself in park as he settled there.,As his eyes drifted to Shotgun, he considered how many years Sam may have left to live; he couldn't tell how parallel time might be. Maybe Sam was even already here, living his own happy eternal life with Eileen.

Dean chuffed that off, glancing again in the rear view mirror. No angel. No Nephilim. 

_ What would you rather have Dean? Peace, or freedom? _

Why was it beginning to feel hollow to have both?

He was in no rush for Sam to make it to the Other Side; but his thoughts drifted to the angel consumed by oblivion -- those final moments, his words caught in his throat, winded multiple times moments apart before he could even wheeze a real reply.

If this was Heaven, why did he just feel his heart wrench?

_ "Hello, Dean." _

Dean jolted enough to nearly bash his head off the car roof, turning to look behind him. The back seat was still empty. It took a moment to recognize the crackly underpinning that came from the radio along with the strong, familiar, basal voice; gravelly, and yet somehow soft and gentle.

"Cas?" Dean barely breathed out.

_ "Of course,”  _ crackled back..

"No. Nonono, this isn't--you're not-- you're just my memories messing with me." Dean gestured at his heavenly skull as if to argue with his radio. "You're dead."

_ "To be fair," _ the radio chided back, _ "So are you." _

Dean popped his brows in acknowledgement, but moved on to argue with the manifestation, “Yeah, but you’re still in my head.”

_ “What makes you say that?” _

“Well, you’re just here because I want you here.”

The radio went quiet. 

Dean was fairly certain that wasn’t what he had wanted.

“Cas?” he called out in desperation to what was a likely manifestation of his own psyche.

_ “It’s just good to hear you say it like that.”  _ Radiostiel sounded soft; relieved.

Dean felt the wind sucked out of him in a world he didn’t need air in to begin with. “Cas…” he idled. “Cas, I’m so sorry.”

“For what?” came sharply and crisply in true base from the passenger’s seat next to him. 

Dean jolted again, reminded of old times when the angel had his wings. Before the angel gave everything away for him. Maybe he hadn’t let himself believe that’s what it had been--it was for humanity, it was for the world, it was for--

“Dean?” 

The hunter swallowed as he looked into starkly blue eyes that seemed intensely real. “For everything.” Dean finally managed after an intense, protracted silence sparked between their gaze.

“There’s nothing to apologize about.”

Dean wasn’t sure why even that struck him in his core; perhaps it was the familiar ring to the day the angel had walked out, Moving On, with nothing else to say--no. Maybe it was that old heaven memory of his mother having nothing more to tell his father about when they had a brief time apart.

But nothing about this was ‘brief’. 

“I should have done more to fix it.” Dean forged through his words cautiously, feeling as though he was moving upstream.

Castiel opened the car door, stepping out smoothly. The forest Dean had last been driving through had at some point melted away, leaving the Impala parked with its headlights over the edge of an ocean cliff. Castiel didn’t walk far. Dean sat inside, mystified and looking around at the gulls in the misty dusk sky. Sudden location shifts in the open mental terrain weren’t new to him, but he wasn’t sure what mental spark had brought them here.

Dean cautiously stepped out, closing the Impala door as carefully as on earth. He flanked towards the cliff face on the other side of the Impala, cautiously glancing over to the image of the angel.

He was younger again; fresher. Somehow the angel didn’t look as weathered and beaten, but the ageless body of grace he was supposed to have been. He had known the angel so long, through so many of his struggles, he hadn’t truly taken notice of what the life had done to someone that was supposed to be frozen in time. It was striking. Jarring, even.

“So uh…” Dean rifled through his own mind to try to figure out how to engage the clear mirror of it currently haunting him. He might not admit it, but he would take the company--real or not. He didn’t know how long he might have this echo of his best friend. “Nice… cliff?”

Dean finally observed the horizon more than the angel. The ocean left a haze over the horizon, and the water far below was so deep it looked black beneath the foam that bashed against the rocks. 

“Alright, I don’t get it.” Dean admitted. The sights, the apparition, the environment…

“It’s yours, not mine.” Castiel bantered back, only briefly glancing askew to the hunter without as much as turning his head. “Don’t ask me.”

Somehow the ocean’s swell--the sound of its ebb and flow--was calming. But it left an aching feeling. The car between them was a much smaller black divide than the abyss the angel had been drawn into. Dean looked down into the dark waters.

“How long?” Dean asked, looking at the angel in a trenchcoat expectantly. It earned a blank-faced glance he still somehow recognized as curiosity. Apparently, Dean needed to explain to the manifestation, “How long? Was it like this?”

“Was it like what?”

“You… and me.”

Castiel finally turned to face the man, hands in his coat pockets. Dean took note that it clashed with the younger appearance; that was a quirk the angel had plucked up during his time on earth, not the younger-looking mask that had been so rigid and alien.

“Well, do you believe I’m really here?”

“What?”

“Because if I was just ‘in your head’, I would remind you of what I said before I died.” Castiel raised his chin in subtle bravado. “Ever since we met, Dean. You were changing me. Though I might say I truly fell the day I fell.”

For a moment, Dean thought the walls of the Beautiful Room were around them, golden and elegant frames portraying behind the angel and the Impala briefly overshadowed by a banquet table holding them apart. But it washed away with the next sound of the waves.

“And… if you weren’t just part of my head?”

Castiel let out a muted chuckle, lowering his head and scouring the waters below as if to call something from the dark sea. “Beyond that moment?” he went quiet, eyes drifting ahead. “The doubt I held in my heart when I was working with Crowley in Purgatory. You knew I had heard things you said; my heart broke when you left me in the flaming ring--but it had already been tearing slowly the many times you never knew you walked right by me.”

It was Dean’s turn to be intrigued.

Again, a more human crooked smirk caught the angel’s freshly youthful features. “Then again. I suppose that was training for the last few earth-months.”

Dean snapped to attention, “What are you talking about, man?”

Castiel let his eyes seem distant again. “I tried to reach out to you. To all of you.”

Dean swore he heard the angel snort unflatteringly. 

“You actually had me going with your plans against Chuck.”

Dean knit his brows, “What do you mean?” That seemed like a fairly complex story path for his mind to craft, but it had done so in the past with Pamela when he was under Michael’s control.

“I shifted my focus from the Bunker once you told Michael your plans on how to approach Chuck and brought myself to the shores ahead of you, as if I could somehow stake it out. Somehow help. Somehow watch over you.” 

The angel glanced aside, noticing Dean looked entranced. “Where do you think I found the design for the mountain ahead of the roadhouse?”

The angel had a way of stripping the hunter’s words away. Sometimes it was in proclamations of love, other times in spit-take misstatements and sometimes--sometimes in his unintentional riddles. Maybe this was what Cas felt like when he spoke in pop culture. 

Castiel noticed the confusion. “I’ve been waiting for you, Dean.”

Dean went from timeless to frozen in time. Whatever tensions or knots or chokes might take him locked him into the moment. And in that moment, there was no cliff. There was no Impala. There was no sky or sea. There was just the angel looking into him. “Cas?” he dared--cautious, as if speaking too loudly would shatter the illusion. “Is that really you?”

Somehow, the soulful gaze-- bluer than any sea he might have imagined--rooted him back into  _ reality _ . Heaven, at least; but reality. The haze lifted, and the sky was bright and blue again. The sun shone brightly at his rear horizon and a distant, low hanging full moon still stubbornly refused to set in the other, hanging low but full behind the angel.

“But--how?” Dean stammered, “I saw you-- you--”

Castiel pressed on, “I was preparing the Roadhouse for you but you drove away without ever walking into it. You deserved your space, and your freedom. I waited until I heard you call.”

“--The… roadhouse?” Dean looked baffled.

“The new Throne.”

“I don’t understand.” 

Castiel turned to walk the length of the Impala, hands drifting over her contours and moulds. “You will. But we have time. Nothing but it. There’s no rush.”

Dean’s feet felt cemented to his place on the stony cliff, head turning after the angel mechanically. Heavenly cinderblocks seemed to anchor him in place, mouth agape.

“Don’t worry,” Castiel’s eyes beamed even as solemnly smug as his face managed to be from standing over the passenger’s side door. “Part of you is still there too. I’m sure you felt it.”

“I don’t understand.” Dean repeated.

“Yes, you said that already.”

Dean finally willed himself to move. His steps were still as uncertain as his gaze on the angel as he naturally found the handle of the driver’s side door, catching the queue and settling into the vehicle in tandem with the angel. 

An endless two lane bridge laid ahead of the Impala over the waters, and Dean took that as his hint. He shifted the Impala into drive. He paused. Shifted into neutral. And caught an angel’s prying eyes. “Okay, so… humor me here, Cas.”

“I always do.”

Dean’s face smarmed beyond his control, underscored by a mild eyeroll before moving on. “Okay, so, you’re here.”

“Yes.”

“And you’re real.”

“Yes.”

“And you’re not in the Empty.”

“No.”

“Did… Jack pull you out?”

Castiel looked strangely entertained by that for a few quiet seconds of thoughtful smile before lifting his chin in playful defiance, “No. But you could have at least asked him to like you did Chuck.”

Dean felt himself flush. He didn’t have or need circulation, but heat still filled his face, “You saw that?”

“I saw everything.”

“I don’t-”

“-understand that reference, yes, I know.” Castiel cut over him, leaving the hunter staring back gobsmacked. “You should drive,” he nodded ahead.

After a stunned moment, Dean complied.

The Impala took to the eternal road over the cosmic sea. The angel stared out the window, not seeming particularly rushed to speak.

Once again, Dean didn’t know how long he was on the road--minutes, hours, days--before he cautiously raised his voice. The radio was silent throughout, but he didn’t dare to touch a dial beyond what he had been told as if he might volume-shift the angel out of existence. “You’re not just going to disappear or something, are you?” 

“Only when you want me to.” Castiel paused, tipping his head and glancing back at the man. “Or when I want to. But only as long as that stands for either of us.”

Dean swore he felt ice grip his chest.

The angel seemed to sense it. “I’m happy, Dean. Here, with you, right now.”

Dean’s tension thawed, loosening his white knuckle grip on the wheel as they toured the ocean-blue. 

“So you saw everything on earth.”

“Well, most everything.” Castiel ceded. “I’m not omniscient. But I know enough to be irked.”

“Irked?” Dean cautiously side glanced three times in rapid succession. By the third, he caught a fierce stone-eye leer from the angel.

“When I died to save your life, as noble as it sounds for it to be for you saving the world, I did not mean for you to save it only to die on badly placed hardware a few weeks later.”

Dean chuckled. “You know about that, huh.”

“Dean,” Castiel grated, eyes still drilling into the hunter who could feel it even without looking. Dean knew he didn’t have to keep his eyes on the heaven road to be safe, even less than he did on earth; but somehow he didn’t have the courage in that moment. “Everybody knows that.”

“W-what do you mean?”

Castiel let out a thoughtful sound that slipped off into the air, drifting his gaze back out to sea. 

“You care to tell me about anything actually going on, or are you just gonna keep up this McDreamy Mysterioso act? Like maybe how you got out of the Empty? Or what you mean by me still being wherever else?”

The angel met the hunter’s eyes. A spark of dangerous challenge ran goosebumps over the hunter’s whole body, but the angel just leaned forward and cranked the radio dial to blast from 4 tracks into Dean’s Top 13 Zepp Traxx. The angel rebelliously bounced his head to the beat of  _ All My Love _ as the percussion kicked in, or did his best efforts.

_ Should I fall out of love, my fire in the light _

_ To chase a feather in the wind _

_ Within the glow that weaves a cloak of delight _

_ There moves a thread that has no end _

_ For many hours and days that pass ever soon _

_ The tides have caused the flame to dim _

_ At last the arm is straight, the hand to the loom _

_ Is this to end or just begin? _

_ All of my love, all of my love _

_ All of my love to you, oh _

_ All of my love, all of my love, oh _

_ All of my love to you _

Tires thrummed over cement, the world blazed them by. Dean almost found himself perturbed by the subtle bobbleheading of his copilot, but couldn’t help but spark a smile. The straight-ridged road ahead took playful veers around all of nothing, coasting between stony islands in the ocean-skies.

_ The cup is raised, the toast is made yet again _

_ One voice is clear above the din _

_ Proud Arianne one word, my will to sustain _

_ For me, the cloth once more to spin, oh _

_ All of my love, all of my love, oh _

_ All of my love to you _

_ All of my love, all of my love, yes _

_ All of my love to you _

As the instrumental twanged and flared and playfully cut in, Dean broke from finding himself succumbing to the rhythm of his wheel again. Glancing aside, he caught the angel’s look of approval. Dean flashed a sheepish grin, curbing his childish enthusiasm. The music dulled but didn’t quiet entirely, promising to play behind them.

Castiel began, “I wouldn’t know where to begin to tell you why I’m here or what has become.”

“Well, try me.”

The angel squinted ahead, seeing distant sights of what may have been land.

“What if I said that the Empty does not exist?”

“That’s… insane. You’ve been there multiple times. I saw it come for you.”

“No,” Castiel corrected, “You saw the Shadow come for me.”

“Which _ lives  _ in the Empty,” Dean tried to sound authoritarian but realized he knew little; he hadn’t encountered it like Sam; he hadn’t made a deal like Castiel; he’d been threatened with it by Billie and heard of it vaguely from Castiel, but that was all. It was some unreturnable oblivion space. That’s what he knew.

“In a manner of speaking yes, but it doesn’t live either.” Castiel raised his hand, hovering it slowly over the dashboard to cut the sun’s rays. Dean glimpsed it from the corner of his eye, but the angel caught that he needed more.  “Do you remember the first time I helped you through Heaven, Dean?”

“Uh, yeah. Zachariah was up our ass. You used the radio but couldn’t really do more than phone in.” He caught an expectant look and realized there was more to say. “I don’t know. It was dark? I had to break out of my place to find Sam?” Dean realized the angel was just waiting for Dean to talk his way through a great deal of his own answers. “And now the walls are down and someone let the sun turn on so everybody’s just having a great time. Thank you Doctor Phil. But that doesn’t explain YOU. Or the Empty. Or the Shadow. Or whatever.”

“I remember once--” Castiel sounded thoughtful; it took a great deal to try to explain quantum paranormal function all at once, much less in Winchester-speak, “--when Michael had you. We went into your mind.”

“Yeah?” Dean fished for the rest.

“At first, there was nothing. Nothing but Empty.” the hunter furrowed his brows at the angel’s phrasing. “And I remember, I searched your memories high and low. I remember hearing you cry for your brother in hell; seeing even when I first laid hands on you. And… more than that.” The hunter took to simply accepting the angel’s long pauses as he sorted through explanations. “Do you remember the time you took the dream root to dreamwalk, Dean?”

“Yeah. There was a psycho going all Freddy Kruger on people in their dreams and we hunted him--” something dawned on him. “Oh.”

“Everything has a Shadow, Dean.”

The hunter felt kicked out of the Impala in transit, realizing he was suddenly staring in on a room watching himself circling… himself. The radio, which had just been ready to finish its instrumental, was silent again.

_ What are the things that you want? _

_ What are the things that you dream? _

_ I mean your car? That’s dad’s. _

_ Your favorite leather jacket? Dad’s. _

_ Your music? Dad’s. _

_ Do you even have an original thought? _

The memory flickered, skipping frames.

_ You can’t escape me Dean. You’re going to die. And this! This is what you’re going to become! _

Dean felt himself pulling back, but couldn’t find… motion. Body. “Cas?” he tried. A sensation enveloped him, like a hen wrapping wings over a chick, but he saw nothing.

_ I’m here, Dean. _

The haunting images of the room faded, leaving only the bluegreen befeathered wallpaper that the original showdown had taken place in. The angel and the hunter were standing there, alone, without the clones.

“Dude,” Dean snapped, “DON’T **DO** THAT.”

“Actually,” Castiel pacifistically replied, “That was you.”

“What?”

Castiel wandered the dream space, filing through half filled papers. Old and new thoughts laid to print. Even that old desk had the clipboard from shortly before Dean’s passing. Castiel picked up the job application, smiling quietly. “A firefighter.”

Dean flustered, “Yeah well I-”

“Always wanted to be one when you grew up. Yes, I know.” The angel finished for him. “Still saving people, but--” The angel inspected. “You were considering getting out of hunting, weren’t you?”

Dean’s gaze shifted around the room. “I dunno. Chuck was gone. Everything was quiet.”

“You don’t have to justify it.”

“I know, I just--everything was slow.” Dean still stammered on.

“I know. You went to that pie festival.”

Dean grimaced. “You saw that too?”

“Yes.” The angel seemed humored. “You were happy.”

“And the--”

The angel knew him and his various insecurities of image too well, cutting in-- “Pie in the face, yes.” Castiel idly rested the clipboard aside, looking thoughtfully at the hunter. “It’s the kind of happiness I wanted for you, Dean. I was… worried.”

“YOU were worried? You got sucked up in black goo and YOU were worried?” Dean’s own grief might have easily been misconstrued as anger to an outsider.

The angel looked burdened for a moment. “You wouldn’t even sleep in your bed for weeks. Passed out on the floor. I was worried you wouldn’t move on.”

“Oh-” Dean paled, “You-- saw that too.” The angel’s knowing stare spoke enough, leaving Dean rubbing the back of his head awkwardly. 

"But you got better. Did better. You weren't well later, your room showed that. But you did your best."

Dean felt as if he was expected to speak, stammering, “I just… I don’t know. I thought about our fight. And being angry. About why I was angry. About… stuff Amara said.”

“Stuff Amara said?”

“Yeah. About now being better than before, or whatever, when mom was gone. That getting to know someone for Real was better than a memory.” Dean realized he was looking at his boots, cautiously making eye contact with the angel who’s gaze managed to pry more out of him. “I remember… I walked out on you. When you said we are.”

“We are?”

“Real.”

Something finally looked to hit the angel firmly. It must have hit Dean just as much, because the windows brightened behind the drapes, giving light to the grim room as the distant sound of the road’s radio leaked through.

_ Yours is the cloth, mine is the hand that sews time _

_ His is the force that lies within _

_ Ours is the fire, all the warmth we can find _

_ He is a feather in the wind, oh _

“Look Cas, everything about this is weird. I know. I’m still not even sure if it’s really you. I just… want it to be so bad I don’t care if it is. And maybe that’s wrong. But if it is, I don’t want it to be right, you know?”

“Do I feel real?” the angel came on like a sledgehammer.

_ All of my love, all of my love, oh _

_ All of my love to you _

_ All of my love, ooh yes, all of my love to you now _

_ All of my love, all of my love _

_ All of my love, love, sometimes, sometimes _

Dean felt as if he were hanging in open air, choked as thoroughly as the day he last laid eyes on the angel on earth. If a word escaped, he was certain the angel would be ripped away into nothing again. He laboriously held the angel’s stare. A profound, searing connection stirred in the pit of his being.

He didn’t have to say it.

The angel nodded, moving towards the door. 

“So what is it, Dean?”

Dean finally snapped into an easier mode to engage--confusion. “What is what?”

“What are the things that you dream?” 

_ Sometimes, sometimes, oh love _

_ Hey, hey, hey _

_ Hey, hey, hey _

_ Ooh yeah, it's all my love _

_ All of my love, all of my love, to you now _

_ All of my love, all of my love _

_ all of my love to, to you, you, you, yeah _

_ I get a little bit lonely _

Castiel opened the door. 


	2. Act 2: What We Are

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Castiel reminds Dean it's fair to dream, even in death.

_ “So what is it, Dean?” _

_ Dean finally snapped into an easier mode to engage--confusion. “What is what?” _

_ “What are the things that you dream?” _

Castiel opened the door from old haunted nightmares into a black space.

Dean squinted against a sudden, blazing spotlight striking him as red curtains parted, sunny yellow windows filling his vision ahead. He glanced aside, looking for his accompaniment but saw no angel there despite the harpish strings. He looked down, spying a white suit and black trousers as he dazedly took a few steps down from what should have been the telescope niche of the bunker into a black and white incarnation of the bunker.

Jazzy trumpets of twenties swinger tunes began, leaving Dean a distinct feeling of deja vu as he tilted his gaze suspiciously towards an empty spotlight on the floor.

Garth did not appear. No one did.

_ You could have a great career, _

_ And you should; _

_ Yes you should; _

_ Only one thing stops you dear: _

_ You're too good; _

_ Way too good! _

Dean listened to the cords sling through, “Is this what they talk about with your brain frying while you die?” he muttered. Or, perhaps, it was Gabriel logic. 

_ If you want a future, darlin', _

_ Why don't you get a past? _

_ 'Cause that fatal moment's comin' at last... _

Dean cautiously began his tap as best he could remember, as if to play his role; if this were some strange, lucid dream--or the nerves firing in his brain as he died--he might as well play it through. 

This time, there was no one to look to for support--or approval as he got into the appropriately-named swing of it and his manifest cane. 

_ We're all alone, no chaperone _

_ Can get our number _

_ The world's in slumber _

_ Let's misbehave!!! _

Soon enough, the swell of it actually did steal the hunter away, throwing his cane past where his old partner had vanished in the original take of this before this heavenly encore; finding himself in full pirouette across the room to kidnap the corner lamp into the dance as he had once in dream under Garth’s sedation. He was certain, to some extent, he was doing this out of the original order,, but if he were to play his part he would simply fall into the beat.

_ There's something wild about you child _

_ That's so contagious _

Somewhere in the elegant courtship spin with the lighting fixture, Dean realized that as nearly weightless as it was-- it had blurred into a form that was a _ bit  _ broader than a single rod. Dean staggered back from the image of Castiel--black suit and minus the trademark coat-- who tilted his head at the sudden separation with sloppy tie hanging loosely and equally mussed hair looking just as thrown around as the lamp he replaced. The stubbled angel reminded of more innocent days--if the terrifyingly powerful angel of the garrison and divine order could have been called innocent.

“...You sure you really want to keep tap dancing?” the angel challenged with a sense of knowing; A brief punch to the mind jogged a memory of screaming in the bunker hallways--Chuck keeping Dean tap dancing forever.

_ Let's be outrageous _

_ Let's misbehave!!! _

Castiel offered out his hand.

_ When Adam won Eve's hand _

_ He wouldn't stand for teasin'. _

Dean closed the space, taking the gesture but left standing and staring at their interlocked grip. “Cas?”

_ He didn't care about those apples out of season. _

“Unless you’d rather not.” The angel had the simplest ways of getting under Dean’s skin. In the past, the slightly raised chin was often his silent bluff through tactical meetings and challenges in strategy, but the same undaunting gaze met him while their woven hands were raised to one side together.

“No, I--” Dean choked narrowly, trying to find some break-in to the music.

_ They say that Spring _

_ means just one thing to little lovebirds _

The lonesome standing tap performance was over, though Dean started tilting and leading into the music with all the grace and ease of a first highschool dance. He may have had rhythm, but hesitation crippled performance.

_ We're not above birds _

_ Let's misbehave!!! _

“You know how to dance?” Dean cautiously challenged as Castiel fell into the shift with him.

_ It's getting late and while I wait _

_ My poor heart aches on _

“Not really. But several billion humans do.” Castiel cryptically clipped back.

“What?” Dean wouldn’t get much more out.

_ Why keep the brakes on? _

_ Let's misbehave!!! _

It wasn’t the first time Dean had been flung like a ragdoll by the angel, but this time far less traumatically. Instead, Dean found himself sharply introduced to the  _ swing _ side of swinger music, at arms’ reach and pulled back in again-- across and down--only to be stabilized by a brickwall of the lord bracing him firmly at center as he recovered from surprise.

_ I feel quite sure un peu d'amour _

_ Would be attractive _

Dazed by an about-face beyond his control, he was given time to find his footing and instead look into blue eyes--blue, not black-and-white, but stark blue like the seas they had shortly-before been traveling over-- and the smug grin from the angel that tamed himself into what might have been considered more appropriate for a few steps.

_ While we're still active, _

_ Let's misbehave! _

One final spin somehow found the hunter with his arms around the angel, his chest to the immortal one’s back. The hunter was fairly certain they had left the anchor steps and chicken walks for something hinging more on a heated tango. He didn’t have a beating heart, but it still pounded between their fitted forms.

_ You know my heart is true _

_ And you say you for me care... _

_ Somebody's sure to tell, _

_ But what the hell do we care? _

In a whirl, Castiel freed them of each other. A stupefied Dean realized he was missing one white cap he almost forgot he had, reaching up to brush through his freed hair as he realized the angel escaped backwards with it--complete with a tip in his direction as he click-waltz-tapped in reverse up the temporary steps manifest beside the map table.

_ They say that bears have love affairs _

_ And even camels _

_ We're merely mammals _

_ Let's misbehave!!! _

Dean watched the angel quite literally steal his spotlight, tapping all over the map table in a way that left him heaving a throaty gulp from below.

_ If you would be just sweet _

_ And only meet your fate, dear, _

_ 'Twould be the great event _

_ Of nineteen twenty-eight, Dear. _

Let’s misbehave.

The dream lens itself closed in like an old projector.

Dean blinked violently, waking back to himself driving over the bridge over the sea, as if he had never stopped. Dizzy, he glanced back over to Castiel, who was back to his previous look of over-loose trenchcoat and staring back at him as if Dean were the one gone-mad. The hunter was heaving, still breathless.

“What the hell was that?!” he demanded.

The angel shrugged vaguely, as if to _ I’unno, _ “Your dream,” He dismissed. Don’t put that one on him, Dean Winchester. Or at least not all of it.

Dean’s panicked eyes searched the road ahead, remembering that he didn’t need to breathe much less hyperventilate. 

“...Should I override it for Zeppelin next time?”

“NO!” Dean barked, loosening his grip on the wheel and exhaling one long, unnecessary breath to pace himself. He decided to quickly reroute, “You never said how you’re back.”

“That would be because you threw us into one of your darker memory chambers before I opened the way to your better dreams.”

“Yeah, well, pitch that one for the hallmark channel but you can get going now.”

Castiel took on a familiar look of paced silence. Dean knew to give him time. “The human soul is a beautiful thing.” By now, Dean knew better than to interrupt saying he didn’t understand where the angel was going with this. “It’s the most powerful source in all creation. It is fullness. Being. It is good. Without it… there is no capacity to do, or to be good. Like…” there, Castiel struggled.

“...Like happened with Jack. And Sam.” Dean glanced over, noticing the angel seemed quieted. “I’m not mad about that anymore, Cas. But what about you? I mean--no offense, angels don’t have souls, right? And you seem pretty damn good.”

Castiel chortled. “Because of you, Dean.” Oone sentence hit Dean more heavily than he could almost handle. “Because of you--I cared about you, Sam, Jack, about the whole world. Because of you. “I was… hm.” 

Dean eyeballed Castiel ejecting the idea of a cassette tape from the tape deck, flipping it over to the other side as if they were in the real world. The sky rolled with the tape, setting the sun like a quickly wound clock and spinning swirling, living stars into the sky under a full moon with the light ahead.

_ Oh, let the sun beat down upon my face _

_ And stars to fill my dream _

_ I'm a traveler of both time and space _

The angel tried to continue to the quiet underpinnings of the music. “Before God and Amara, Creation, Destruction, Heaven, Hell, Earth-- what was there?” he reflected on something he essentially told himself in the past--minus any nagging accents.

“I don’t know. Nothing? The Empty?”

“Yes. Nothing but Empty.” Castiel pondered, staring out the window at the dark sky above. “But oblivion itself is a paradox, isn’t it? To describe Nothing, there must be Something.”

“I guess?”

_ To be where I have been _

_ To sit with elders of the gentle race _

_ This world has seldom seen _

_ They talk of days for which they sit and wait _

_ All will be revealed _

“Chuck had no power over the Shadow of the Empty. Nor did Amara. The most he could do was keep it locked away inside walls. Or outside of them.” The angel pressed his hand to the glass, as if to illustrate it. “And imaginably, they were probably sired by it--entirely by incident.”

“You’re saying the Empty made Chuck and Amara?”

“The Shadow,” Castiel corrected again. “And that’s conjecture. They came from Nothing, but what is the Nothing?”

Dean nodded along. That made sense. As much as anything made sense around here.

_ Talk in song from tongues of lilting grace _

_ Sounds caress my ear _

_ And not a word I heard could I relate _

_ The story was quite clear _

“Chuck and Amara, alone--just siblings. Each with their own story. Each the same, at the end of the day, but each their own. And Chuck one day made a world. But it would seem… it wasn’t empty when he made it. Beyond the trees and things and toys he put there.” Castiel caught Dean’s questioning gaze. “The Garden.”

“Like… Adam? And Serafina?”

“...I don’t know who Serafina is but mostly. Adam and Eve, if you will. I wasn’t there, in the initial creation of the Garden, but I know enough. As does Jack, now that he’s been there.” Dean silently assumed the angel had been informed of enough from the Nephilim to piece together what he might not know before. “The Serpent was never the villain.”

“What?”

_ Oh, oh, o _ _ h, oh _

_ Oh, oh baby, I been flying _

_ No yeah, mama, there ain't no denying _

_ Oh, oh yeah I've been flying _

_ Mama, mama, ain't no denying, no denying _

“Gabriel’s creations--soulless bodies of his world frame. Chuck’s were no different at first. They were much like us angels. All things made by grace one way or another. But the soul--”

“...Came from something in the Garden.”

“The Serpent.” he repeated.

“Okay… so, what does that have to do with you?”

_ All I see turns to brown _

_ As the sun burns the ground _

_ And my eyes fill with sand _

_ As I scan this wasted land _

_ Trying to find, trying to find, where I've been _

“Do you remember the first time I led you through Heaven?” Castiel spoke calmly, while Dean experienced a serious case of deja-vu from the last sudden yeeting into dream space. He swore they just had this conversation. “What did I tell you to do?”

“To follow the road. It would take me to God, and the Garden.”

“Yes,” Castiel fluidly whispered, leading Dean to visually click.

Dean found himself staring in on the Cleveland botanical exhibit while he and Sam cautiously stepped forward to meet Jeremiah. ‘For some, it’s God’s Throne; For others, it’s Eden’.

The brief out of body experience ended by blinking back to the nighttime road with the angel in the classic car that carried them over the endless sea.

“But the Garden was in the ball-thing.” He protested.

_ Oh, pilot of the storm who leaves no trace _

_ Like thoughts inside a dream _

_ Heed the path that led me to that place _

_ Yellow desert stream _

“In order to be in the Occultum, the Occultum must be in you.” Castiel recited. “...Actually,” he hesitated, “that was a very rough translation. Its most literal form read ‘visit the interior part of the earth-body so as to find the hidden soul-stone, but I decided to simplify, seeing as Occultum itself meant ‘hidden’.” Something Billie had loudly reminded them of.

“Okaaaaay?”

Castiel realized he was struggling to convey this all to Dean.

“Dean, what’s a Shadow?”

“I dunno. Darkness?”

“What’s Darkness?”

“...When the lights are off?”

Castiel chuckled quietly. “Well, yes. But it’s… nothing.”

“No it’s definitely something.” Dean argued. Darkness and Shadow clearly existed.

“Are you sure of that?” Castiel’s challenge threw a childishly confused, squinting side glance of disbelief from Dean. “Dean, it’s only the absence of light. Blocked light.”

Dean couldn’t argue that.

The angel continued.

“If you had a shadow. And Sam, long ago, had one when he was split--are you surprised that I had one?”

“Pretty sure ours never ripped through a dimensional wall and kidnapped us.” Dean sassed.

_ Like Shangri-la beneath the summer moon _

_ I will return again _

_ Sure as the dust that floats high in June _

_ When moving through Kashmir _

“That’s because everything has one Dean. Even the World.”

“Okay and… you’re… what, the World?”

Castiel’s enduring stare made Dean reconsider the tone he asked in, and his words almost sound yelped, “What? What’s that look? Are you the world now Cas?”

“To some, maybe.”

“What does that even mean?!”

_ Oh, father of the four winds fill my sails _

_ Across the sea of years _

_ With no provision but an open face _

_ Along the straits of fear _

“Dean… the world is made by Grace. The Shadow exists in Nothing. When Something Became In Grace, the Soul became Light.” he tried to summarize the lessons. “Power. Freedom. Love. Hope. Dreams. Human things. The power to defy even God. The force that even powered God, as long as they were docile, as Grace itself lives only in reflection of its Light.”

“Okay, you’ve totally lost me. Is this like when you sucked up all the monster souls?”

“A bit.” Castiel admitted with a grimace. “I was once part of the world. And then I was touched by the most beautiful soul I found myself bound to.” Castiel stared forward into the broad moon ahead. “Like the moon. Reflecting light from the sun and cutting through the dark when she lets the Sun Shine On Her Face.” 

Dean knew that particular memory didn’t belong to him as it flashed in--a woman, manically mocking someone in the perspective he instantly understood to be Castiel.

_ Oh, but not now. No, no, no, no, no.  _

_ No, you see, I-I meant what I said. I-I want you to suffer.  _

_ I want you to go back to-- to your normal life and-- and then forget about this and forget about me.  _

_ And-- And then, when you finally give yourself permission to be happy and let the sun shine on your face,  _

_ that's when I'll come. That's when I'll come to drag you to nothing. _

_ Oh, oh _

_ Oh, oh _

“Death,” Castiel cut in, bringing them back to the road, “Is an infinite vessel.” Dean didn’t need a mental teleport to have quick flashfire memories of Rowena descending into the pit, or Castiel quite literally subsuming death in the rush of black ooze that was his shadow.

_ Oh, when I'm on, when I'm on my way, yeah _

_ When I see, when I see the way, you stay yeah _

“Everything I hated about myself, everything I feared. All tied in to the grace that made the world; the prime material, the first soul-- when Jack removed the occultum as the source of the soul and exploded it in the Empty--”

“--and you absorbed it--” They both were witness to the brief, scathing color scheme of black and red, Rowena on her serpent crowned throne after the absorption of the freed souls of hell, becoming hell. Becoming Queen.

“Yes,” Castiel whispered. "Or more... accepted. Who I am."

_ Oh, yeah-yeah, oh, yeah-yeah, when I'm down _

_ Oh, yeah-yeah, oh, yeah-yeah, but I'm down, so down _

_ Oh, my baby, oh, my baby, let me take you there _

_ Come on, come on, oh, let me take you there, let me take you there _

“I made our own Garden.”

“Cas…” Dean struggled through, trying to wade to the simplest explanation he could wrap his mind around, “...Are you… Heaven?”

Castiel gentled at the question. “Simply speaking..” He raised a challenging brow. “I guess you could say… I’m queen.”

Dean slammed the breaks, conveniently finding himself just off the exit of the bridge and swerving off at a stunning replica of an Americana gas station to stop and look at the angel. 

“So wait hold on--” he raised his hands, trying to box in a cascade of thoughts to ELI5 himself through what he just heard. “So the Shadow existed before The World but didn’t actually Exist until The World or the Garden but then when it Existed it became Souls that Chuck used for Power but couldn’t Control so he put them in heaven cages inside and kept the Shadow locked outside and then Jack exploded the Garden Bomb into the Shadow and you Absorbed it and became what-- Heaven? The source of Souls?”

Castiel stared flatly through the rant, deciding it a simple enough summary. “Yes.” Pause, “Well, The Soul, actually.”

“What does that even meaN?!” Dean threw his hands in the air.

“The Axis Mundi is only a path--a river of thought through the Anima Mundi--the world soul. Human souls are essentially slices of heaven, Dean. Each grown by their own experience in life, never meant to be apart, always together. It seems in confronting myself and my apparent humanity made full by your influence, possibly in tandem with the death of Death, I accidentally volunteered myself as the new foundation.”

“MY HEAD HURTS!” Dean threw his arms over the steering wheel and bashed his head off of it, sounding the horn.

Castiel squinted. “That seems counterproductive.”

Dean realized, upon removing his head from the horn, that the music had stopped; maybe the angel had hit pause on the track. He didn’t know. He was too busy trying to figure out the paradoxical source of creation that apparently had turned his best friend into the living vessel of heaven.

“But wait,” Dean challenged, “Okay. But. Jack took Chuck’s power.”

“Over earth. Nothing in particular divides earth from any other sphere of the heavens he individuated humans to.” Castiel half-rolled his eyes in nuisance, putting up a finger to cut Dean short before he barked out further confusion in interruption. “People. Families. Souls. That’s real. He put the occultum in his realm and centered earth in the throne room. Jack removed that. But without Chuck, and without Jack, earth would collapse.”

“Well if this is paradise, shouldn’t we just bring everyone here anyway?”

Castiel looked somberly at Dean. “Is that fair to them?” He noticed the hunter’s confusions. “People working, making families. Crafting their own identities, desires, and wants. Earth isn’t perfect, and deserved a better dreamer. But all of these memories you’ve even had, or dreams you acquired all were shaped by that time there. I consider that a valuable experience, don’t you? A world where everyone imagines together. Creates… cars. And music.”

“We could do that here now.” Dean protested.

Castiel nodded. “But the cage of the human body and time on earth is itself an experience. Without walls or borders here… if one does not challenge themselves. Does not live, themselves. Does not build an identity for themselves… then all simply becomes… heaven.”

“You make that sound like a bad thing.”

“Not people Dean. Heaven. Heaven is best when people are in it. And now… Heaven does not want to be alone.”

Castiel’s eyes pitched a weathered, even pleading look to Dean. 

“So… earth is like… training wheels for the heaven experience. Where you meet people and make families. And make yourself.”

“...Yes.” Castiel breathed softly.

“So… in the end of all of this you’re saying… I’m just inside of you? That’s--”

“Kinky, I know.” Castiel replied tersely, tiredly, looking annoyed.

“...Can you read my mind now?” Dean reflexively put a hand on his head.

“No, I’ve just known you far too long. Which is impressive considering it was only a fraction of a percent of my existence.” Castiel huffed, looking out the window. “Don’t get too excited, there’s a few dozen more billion you’re sharing it with.” 

Confusion parted for familiarity. Dean smiled. That was more the Castiel he knew in recent years. Then again, the trip hadn’t been without several of his snarks, challenges and refusals. A day was never a day without at least three small rebellions from the angel, even if it came over buttered toast or coffee thickness. 

“Hey Cas--maybe I’m wishing too hard. Maybe this really is just me making this up. I’m really, really afraid of that, honestly,” his voice briefly broke. He swallowed it back, finding his strength again as the angel dragged his eyes to meet his. “But I’m glad you’re here, man. Or I’m here. Or… whatever this is.”

Castiel softened easily, despite his attempt at a stoic exterior. “Me too, Dean.” He conceded. “Me too.”

There wasn’t tension in the air as much as connection; a man and his angel--or maybe an angel and his world--or a man and the world--staring into each other alone on the planes of eternity. 

After several minutes, or maybe calendar months, Castiel spoke, “Dean,” he leaned back to upright himself from an accidental lean. “We should see your family.”

“What?”

“Your friends. Your family.” Castiel repeated, more clearly and slowly this time.

Dean cleared his throat, sitting upright while straightening out his jacket lapels with a tug. “Right, yeah.” He brushed off, glancing at his reflection in the rear-view mirror to smooth back his hair -- or give any other point of focus than the angel he had been staring at for a few moons. “I mean you’re part of that too.”

“Yes, I know.” Castiel dismissed. “But your parents are here. Charlie, as well. Several others. Many are at the Roadhouse but we can head there eventually. I think Charlie is closest. We can find your parents on the way back.”

“I thought you said I’m kind of everywhere at the same time.”

“In as many places as you want to be, yes. But you’re still finding where that is, Dean. And besides--” he drifted. “What I mean to say is-- I could go with you.”

The electric shock that ran down Dean’s spine at the familiarity of five simple words; in fact, he’d heard those words the same day he lost Castiel. 

“Unless you don’t want-”

Dean snapped to attention. “No! No. Stay. I just-- sorry, my mind wandered. Which seems dangerous around here.”

Castiel tipped his head in acknowledgement, surrendering the point with raised brows.

“Okay, which way, captain?” Dean glibly picked up, ready to roll on. He earned a long silence, glancing over at the angel? Heaven?--as his copilot. “Cas?”

“Hm. Maybe you should let me drive.”

“Ohhh-no. That’s not happening. Last time you drove off with her wholesale.”

“Dean, I literally am her. You’ve been riding me for 5 earth years now.”

Dean mentally flatlined.


	3. Act 3: What We Dream

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> People, families. That's real.

A winding road led to a crooked city on a hill. Clockwork foibles sat crooked on tall spires, doing their best to composite the loose image of a Castle nestled in the heart of sheet metal fences around a steam-spewing town from visible metal roofs.

Dean grumbled as he emerged from the passenger’s seat. The angel -- former angel -- heavenly vessel -- stood from the driver’s side. Both raised their hands to the demands of guards to halt and identify. Dean certainly didn’t want to find out if the gun-like contraptions pointed their way particularly worked or hurt in heaven.

“Castiel,” the angel kept simply.

“Dean Winchester!” Dean called out more vigorously. “Old friend of the… mayor or whatever she is around here!” From the high watchtowers that oversaw the gated access, whatever muttering followed was out of earshot. Dean kept his hands raised in case and looked aside at the angel. “What kind of Burning Man Carnival is this?”

Castiel idly mused, “Some sort of dream of Charlie’s, as best I can gather. This seems relevant to a field of fiction called _ Steampunk _ .”

“Big Willy Wonka Gritty Reboot energy there.”   
  
Castiel paused, cautiously lowering his hands, even if Dean looked frenetically from the angel to the tower. “Dean, there’s something I should warn you about.”

“What? Charlie? Nah, we’re thick as thieves.”

“That’s not it.”

“ALL CLEAR! MOVE ALONG!” the watchmen bellowed over a horn, leaving the pair to quickly agree, dropping into their previous seats and rolling through.

The Impala was a sore thumb on a road of mechanical wagons and automated horses; steel plated creatures snorting smoke and people of all shapes and sizes. Some, Dean could tell at a glance, were more animated fixtures of the place by imagination; others, somehow, felt more real. He couldn’t put his finger on it, but there was a connection made with a knowing glance in the right pair of eyes -- a moment had, even with a stranger. They were easy to have at the snail’s pace the angel took over the cobblestone streets, cautious of random flyby drones and a cyborg puppy that already ran across the lane.

Given, he noticed many of them were strange looks. “Why are they looking at us like that?”

“HALT!” interrupted again, leaving Dean to toss up his hands this time in frustration. 

A titanic horse, no less than a clydesdale made of iron and coal, swerved in before the Impala broadside. The crowd wandering the road rearranged--taking more orderly lines of respect as if before a lord.

A fiery redhead in familiar fantasy-victorian armor slid from the horse, dropping off to the ground easily and looking into the car while pulling off her chainlink gloves. “Dean?” 

Charlie Bradbury took off in a burst as quickly as Dean rose from his seat, “Charlie?!”  They threw themselves together, the young woman hanging from his neck against him for several seconds while he squeezed someone he considered his little sister tight. His Charlie. The real Charlie. There was nothing particularly wrong with the other woman with the name, but she hadn’t lived the same life. Hadn’t walked the same cause. She reminded him of that often--and as he let go, a lightbulb went off over what Castiel had said--developing identity, a self, the individual soul. 

Charlie leaned down to look at the car again, then back at Dean. “Heard you finally got yourself killed, dumbass.” A playful slap of the gloves still stung. “Sam still alright down there?”

“I mean… yeah, I guess.” Dean looked around to the many prying eyes, feeling as if he were on a theater stage. “This is… a lot.”

“Yeah, I know, right?” She beamed. 

“How long did it take you to make this?”

“I dunno. How long have I been dead? At first it was just me building my stupid pillowfort once I realized I could kind of make whatever, but then that yellow eyed kid came through and took down the walls so it’s kind of become a theme park. It’s fun! Way cooler when there's other people in the park, you know.”

“Yeah.” Dean answered hollowly.

“You okay?” Charlie came down several pegs all at once.

“Oh, yeah, just a lot to think about today.” He flashed his charmer smile.

“I bet. I mean, whenever Today is.” She shrugged off. “I hear your angel’s running the joint now. You probably have the best digs in the afterlife.”

Dean blinked, glancing back. As silently unassuming as Castiel had been exiting the Impala, Dean found the angel already close enough in his personal space that he jumped looking back.

“...Yyyyyouuuu okay?” Charlie repeated again, squinting suspiciously.

“Do you-- do you not see him?” He pointed over his shoulder.

“See what? The dwarf back there? He’s harmless.”

Dean leaned forward and belatedly saw around the angel to a waddling fantasy dwarf, full braided beard and all, on his way home from some sort of heavenly work day.

“No, I mean-- Cas.”

“Ooookay now you’re definitely not okay.”

Castiel’s voice broke through to Dean’s ears, “She won’t see me, Dean.”

“What do you mean she won’t see you?” He challenged empty space, as far as Charlie could perceive it.

“I appear to you because you want me here. I am real, but I am also This Place. If her heart doesn’t desire me, I’m just the same as the air here.”

“Of course she wants you here!”

Charlie’s eyes bobbed between Dean and the Empty space he was arguing with. “Uh, guys?” she threw in the plural tentatively, maybe in appeasement. Dean turned to look at her. “Hhhhhow bout we head back to my place and you can tell me what’s going on.”

* * *

“Okay, so let me get this straight.” Charlie, maintaining base robes and armored grieves but otherwise shed of her armor, paced around an open palace room full of bizarre trinkets and eccentric knobs and gadgets, too many things ticking for Dean’s comfort that kept his eyes shifting from her trajectory to the unnecessary accumulations of clocks haunting one wall -- a strange thing in a place considered timeless. 

Castiel muttered from aside, catching Dean’s unspoken thought, “She may have installed linear time in her personal domain to help sort events. It’s a common choice for ease.”

Dean knew better than to speak back while Charlie was already sorting out the details, nodding out a silent ‘ah’ that betrayed only half understanding before rounding back to Charlie who began again,

“So… Cas isn’t  _ running _ heaven. He  _ is  _ heaven. And for some weird reason, you can see him, and I can’t? And it has to do with wanting it? I mean-- I want it. I love that goofy nerd.” She looked around, spontaneously.  _ “That’s lovingly if you can hear me!!!” _ she hollered.

Dean and Castiel both flinched. The hunter gestured back loosely over his shoulder. “He’s right there.”

Charlie spun about swiftly to face them. “Oh! Okay, sorry. This is… weird. Like even for heaven stuff weird.”

Dean and Castiel both nodded with matching raised brows of acceptance. But it was Castiel that spoke, “It’s a personal want. A deep sort of thing that calls to their soul to be manifest.”

Dean paused, eyeballed Castiel with a disturbed expression, and glanced back at Charlie to paraphrase. “He says it’s not a casual want. Something you’ve really got to have around.”

“Ah.” She clapped her hands together. “Oh! I know!” She bounced, hands gripped in the air, “Cas I want you to tell me everything that’s happened between you two since I died.”

Dean chuffed, “Yeah, I don’t think--”

Charlie squealed, running forward and throwing her arms around the angel’s neck with the same glee she had met Dean, enough to even pivot the typically immovable divine force who more cautiously raised his arms to squeeze back. “It’s good to see you, Charlie.”

“Tch, you too!” She took her turn slapping Cas with the gloves she had met Dean with on the street, “Literally.”

“Wait--” Dean looked between them.

“Now, tea.” Charlie demanded, complete with footstomp. “Did you guys finally work your crap out?”

Dean’s eyeballs nearly blew out of his head, but with one blink, the angel was gone. He tossed his hands in seeming frustration, but drew an internal sigh of relief. “Well, I guess he fluttered--”

“Shhshshhh.” Charlie demanded, hand up to Dean and nodding at empty air. “Oh, man. Wait no back up, I have to--”

“WAIT,” Dean bellowed, “Can you see him?!”

“Ohhh yeah, you’re right, that _ could _ be useful.” Charlie paused, looked at the empty space, then back at Dean. “He says you didn’t want him there.”

“DAMNIT, CAS!!” Dean roared, hands in the air as they seemed to be often lately. “What are you telling her!?” 

By the time his hands came down, Dean jolted to realize he elbowed the angel. “I was just talking about the incident with the Colt.” 

Dean groaned, facepalming. “This is ridiculous.” Dean double-took, realizing Castiel’s newest manifestation was the shorter, simpler rain jacket of middle years; the look of slicked-back darkened hair and striped tie cinched too tightly. The image Charlie had known of him.

“Either way,” Charlie agreed, “I’m there.”

“There?” Dean echoed. “There for what?”

“I dunno. The shindig.” 

“There’s a shindig?” Dean repeated.

“Are you a parrot now?” Charlie eyeballed him. “I guess, yeah. Something about the roadhouse and answering the call. It’s cool, no rush for you Dean, once you get out of here time’s all timey wimey so you can’t ever really be late.”

“Uh--okay. Should I  _ know _ about this, Cas?” he side-eyed the angel accusingly, who disappeared with a brush of wind. “No! I want you back here to answer me, damn it!”

Charlie stared at the blank space. “No, I actually think he’s gone. Must not have wanted to answer that one. Whatever, I hear you’re seeing your folks?”

“I mean I guess. Cas decided I should touch base with a few people to figure out where I belong or what I am or some sort of yoda lesson.”

“Not a bad lesson. Another good one-- just hit the road where you want to go and keep it in your mind, you’ll find the way there.” she pointed. “Smell you later, bitches.”

Dean felt a shockwave and suddenly found himself behind his car wheel. “What the hell?” He leaned forward, realizing his entire vehicle was outside the walls again. He jumped, looked in the backseat and craned his neck as if he expected to find the angel hiding in the floorboards.

“Okay.” Thumbs still gripping the wheel, he splayed his fingers in surrender. Dean Winchester centered himself, knowing he had weathered stranger in life. “I pray to Castiel to get his heavenly ass in here as my copilot.” Glancing over, he found he suddenly had company. “Man,” Dean gruffed. “I almost forgot you used to be able to do that. Don’t know if I missed it or hate it.”

“It seems Charlie decided your time in that world was done.”

“World? Seems kind of small for a world.”

“Dean,” Castiel sounded annoyed, “Drive.”

“Yeah, yeah, okay, I’ve got it.” Dean grumbled, put himself in Drive and took to the road, vaguely assuming he was supposed to follow his heartstrings to his parents or whatever. He quickly found himself back over the ocean they had traversed the bridge across before, doubling back in non-space over endless cosmic waters. “Okay, so heavens are… Worlds Without Borders?” Dean inquired as Castiel leaned forward, triggering the tape player again. A quiet guitar filled the car, hiding the sound of tires beating asphalt.

Castiel tipped his head, “More like the cap of them. The legendary Mount Olympus if you will, should you want to divide yourself from any trappings you have of the idea of Heaven before.”

“Mount Olympus? So Charlie’s what… Zeus?”

Castiel chuckled, eyes settling on his hands in his lap. “You could say so, yes. Think of it like so: Chuck feared man’s power as equal to him, but only when together. The dreams, memories and structures in every heaven were their own small world, but only one or if lucky two souls existed in each of them, leaving man detached. Chuck seated his throne above Earth. He hid the occultum within. Now, it lies in heaven, where new souls are born.”

“Souls are born in heaven?” Dean side glanced as the heated guitar of  _ Ten Years Gone  _ recognizably kicked up, flooding their current road trip across Nowhere with energy

“Yes. Now. They can be tended to and shown love for a short while, but to find their way they must find a world to live in. Many have still been choosing earth, but some have found their ways to the many infinite worlds being created by those here. Others, yet, still not complete in their own heavens and creations are choosing to return to earth--or other worlds--to try again.”

The interlude quieted thoughtfully.

“...Reincarnation? You’re saying there’s reincarnation in Heaven now.”

_ Then as it was, then again it will be _

_ And though the course may change sometimes _

_ Rivers always reach the sea _

“The heavens, yes.” Castiel affirmed simply, tipping his head to and fro. “When their time is done in a given world--many of which are still rough and young in the minds of creators just now realizing each human is their own god and creator here--they can head to the heavenly sphere of that world or roam free with the rest of the eternally living here.”

_ Blind stars of fortune, each have several rays _

_ On the wings of maybe, down in birds of prey _

“So… metro transit Mount Olympus to The Good Place.” Dean looked to Castiel, saw an affirmative lip curl, and nodded. “Alright, I think I’ve got it. So what’s my place here?”

_ Kind of makes me feel sometimes, didn't have to grow _

_ But as the eagle leaves the nest, it's got so far to go _

The quiet strings humbled Castiel’s confession there. “That’s what we’re still working on. So far, it’s this car, but it seemed like you were questioning it. I fully admit I designed the new Garden to hopefully appeal to you, but you would be free to change whatever you like or build nearby however you like.”

_ Changes fill my time, baby, that's alright with me _

_ In the midst I think of you, and how it used to be _

“You… built heaven’s garden… for me.” Dean slowly repeated, coming to grips with it by clenching too tightly to his steering wheel. Cool. His best friend was just Heaven Itself and in love with him and building entire sections of heaven for him before he ever died. “That’s… uh. That’s nice, Cas. So what about this? The ocean thing. I mean I wanted to see the beach, but what’s up with the ocean?” Dean willingly rerouted as energetically as the electric guitar in one of his favorite songs dancing across progressive chords.

“Oh--the cliff was yours, prior, but this becomes my perception of long stretches while sharing it as a road. For you, it’s a road--often forested or remote. For me-- it’s the sea.”

“Okay-- but-- why.”

The sparkle in the angel's eyes was a better tell than any laugh. “None of our destinations are what lie on either side of the road here. Your path is carrying you towards your parents right now. There’s still worlds out there. The Mundi--heaven--is simply a state of Being and Wholeness over the cosmic waters you call the Empty. It took me some time to understand that as well, but now it’s all I know.”

Dean flitted a side eye to Castiel. Somehow, he felt this was an opportunity, but he didn’t know how to begin. “So you… ate the Shadow and went to the Empty but… instead…? Were too Being to Not Be? Please tell me if I’m following this.”

_ Did you ever really need somebody _

_ And really need 'em bad _

_ Did you ever really want somebody _

_ The best love you ever had _

“My hollowness was gone.” Castiel streamlined his affirmative.

“Ah.” Dean clipped, as if that made sense; more, he accepted it with no other way to protest. It was the best explanation he imagined he would get. And he didn’t know if he was ready to approach that emptiness itself as a topic.

_ Do you ever remember me, baby _

_ Did it feel so good _

_ 'Cause it was just the first time _

_ And you knew you would _

Silence hung as they approached distant sights of land. The instrumental rise partnered to the image of distant mountains and forest swelling ahead as they tread the infinite road, and somehow Dean’s courage swelled with it.

“Hey, Cas--”

_ Through the eyes an' I sparkle _

_ Senses growing keen _

“When you said--the one thing you want--”

_ Taste your love along the way _

_ See your feathers preen _

“You know, I just thought-- and couldn’t have-- you being an angel and all-- you wouldn’t; couldn’t; or… somehow different than--”

_ Kind of makes makes me feel sometimes _

_ Didn't have to grow _

Castiel spoke up again, firm, “It’s not whatever you might be thinking, Dean.” the hunter looked taken aback--maybe even offended. “I know. I’ve heard it. Felt it. I’ve lived and loved and raised a child with you.”

_ We are eagles of one nest _

_ The nest is in our soul _

“Half of it was myself; I couldn’t, and shouldn’t have. And the rest--was wanting to see you happy, free, safe and out of the life. That we could have a family, free of Chuck and wars. Maybe like your mother almost had. That was the one thing I wanted. And, by the time I made my deal, I knew I could never have. I made my choice in the hopes that you could live on, free.”

Dean gaped.

_ Vixen in my dreams, with great surprise to me _

_ Never thought I'd see your face _

_ The way it used to be _

Once again, the angel had robbed him of breath. Castiel had a way of carving into the core of his fears or doubts without a second thought. Lisa flashed to his mind.

_ I know what I want.  _

_ I _ _ t’s just something I can never have. _

He hadn’t been able, or ready, or even willing to hang up the life then. In the end, maybe his heart wasn’t even in her as much as Ben and the idea of it. He took that boy on like a son.

“Seeing you apply for a life, still helping people, but realizing you were free--that was enough for me.”

“...How’s… Jack doing… by the way?” he narrowly managed.

_ Oh darlin', oh darlin' _

_ I'm never gonna leave you _

_ I never gonna leave _

_ Holdin' on, ten years gone _

Dean couldn’t help but admire the soft pride that took the angel. “Very well. I wish he didn’t bear this kind of responsibility as young as he is, but we can speak about that later.” Castiel transitioned as Dean realized they had hit solid ground, re-entering the forested roads he began on, with a cabin visible down the road. 

_ Ten years gone, holdin' on, ten years gone _

_ Ten years gone, holdin' on _

“Your parents have been waiting for you.”

* * *

Dean swept back his hair as if to look presentable for a date before knocking on the door. Castiel already reminded him that odds were he wouldn’t be seen, but Dean convinced himself he had slyly convinced the angel to do it without it being transparent; he wanted the support.

A young woman with vibrant curls answered the door, greeting the hunter with bright eyes. Dean was staggered to see Mary looking like she was in the prime of her life, at an age he knew only from trips to the past.

“Dean?” 

“...Mom?”

If anyone asked, Dean Winchester would say she threw her arms around him and not the other way around, but he squeezed her more firmly than a lost child. A few tears rolled from each of them, but ultimately, Mary Winchester pulled herself away and wiped her eyes. “Come on in.” She sniffled. “I heard about what happened.”

Dean wandered into a home larger than the cabin let on. The white walls were bright, stairs ascended towards an outer patio door. It was home. An old home he barely remembered, were it not for past trips to heaven or into Mary’s own mind. A happier, brighter version of an often fraught marriage even before his mother was so unceremoniously stolen away the first time.

“Hey, wow-- it’s--nice.”

“Is it? How’s Sam? I know Castiel has been in heaven helping Jod out--”

“Jod?”

Castiel muttered from the side, “It’s what Jack calls himself now, he thinks it’s funny.”

Mary’s coy smile said the same. “I haven’t seen much of either of --” she jolted. “Castiel?”

The angel blinked, face paralyzed in surprise.

“You can see me?”

“You can see him?”

In _ stereo. _

“Should I not be able to?”

“No, it’s-- it’s complicated.” Castiel stammered out. 

“JOHN! DEAN AND CASTIEL ARE HERE!” she called across the home.

“Mom, you have to be ready that dad probably won’t--” Dean glanced back, finding a more recently familiar idea of the angel standing in more tightly-fitted coat and broadened form, hair no longer glued down with too much gel but tie straightened. The recent shifting made Dean recognize that as much as the angel had aged with time, he had gained considerably in form over what had been a formerly waifish and slim look into--frankly--a broad-built beast.

“So I FINALLY get to meet Castiel.” A young John Winchester swaggered out of the living room, “I’ve heard so much about-” stopping short. “...That is not what I was expecting.” he admitted curtly while hovering in the doorway.

Castiel and Dean’s eyes both popped open widely enough to threaten to escape their skulls. If their silence were any louder, ellipses might have manifested over their heads before Castiel awkwardly gravelled out, “H-hello.” stealing away any coolness his pocketed hands might have given the illusion of.

“When you said you were living with an angel,” John approached to form a proper square between the two pairs, “I had figured more… you know.” Pause. “Wings, tits and a harp.”

Dean’s mouth hung open. His tongue was numb.

Castiel wasn’t much better off, but objected, “No, I don’t have breasts.” pause. “Or a harp.” 

“You know, I thought he would have had a harp too.” Mary elbowed John.

Both halves of the hunter-angel duo stood dumbly frozen, lips parted and nothing coming out.

“Soooo… you’re sleeping with an angel.” John judged side-eyed.

“Oh, now you have a problem with it.” Mary rolled her eyes.

“I don’t-” John started, but was cut short by an outburst from Dean.

“We’re not!” 

Castiel stood just behind Dean’s shoulder, visibly disassociating.

Before much more could happen, the lighting in the room shifted to a dimmer, duller hue.

“Oh no, here we go.” John complained vaguely.

“What?” Dean braced for danger even in heaven. 

The back door was thrown open in Seinfeld-level insertion. “John! I hear your boy is in town!”

“Yes, dad.” John tiredly glanced back. “He’s right here.”

Henry Winchester--himself in his prime, not too unlike how he died. His overcoat and Stetson cap brought in enough of a mood that Dean swore he heard old, soothing jazz blow in on the wind with him. 

“Ayyyy, son.” The grandfather who looked anything but the part jaunted Dean’s way, complete with pipe in-hand. “Hear you all made good use of the bunker.”

“Uh--yeah.” Dean gaffed. Mary and John didn’t seem much better off.

“And who’s this broad fella?” Henry gestured at the angel. “Love the coat.”

It was now three voices: “You can see him?”

“Am I… not supposed to?”

“I suppose if the creators of the dominion will me into presence then I exist for the rest.” Castiel deduced simply--or simply to him, while everyone else stared on.

Henry decided to break several moments of silence, “Alright!” He moved on, accepting the lack of an introduction. “This calls for a family meal, I’ve got to hear how the most famous hunter in the world died with a nail in the back.” Multiple judging eyes found him. “What? You have to admit that’s funny.” Henry was already seeing himself into the dining room, taking his ambiance with him and rebrightening the home.

Mary blew out past puffed lips and looked to Dean and Castiel. “Sorry, he’s kind of -- around.”

“Decided to make up for lost time.” John popped his lips and gave a reassuring shake to Mary’s shoulder with an arm wrapped around her. “We’ll go figure out what to whip up. Do angels eat?”

“I’m really not an angel anymore, though I can partake of anything here.”

John stared again. “...Alrighty then.”

The family elders moved out, leaving Dean and Castiel staring awkwardly at each other.


	4. Act 4: Why Are We The Way We Are

The initial awkwardness of a family dinner across multiple generations eventually cracked. Castiel found himself feeling strangely welcome amidst the passing of glasses and portions -- best dreamed incarnations of Winchester Surprise and favorite beers. 

Many stories were shared: of John’s early childhood by Henry, who apparently dreamed of owning a hot dog stand when he was small. Of Mary’s over-willingness to talk about the gross things Dean did with what he found in his diapers to all at the table, particularly fixated on Castiel’s response. Castiel informing them of trips to Dodge City and Dean’s still-living fixation with cowboys. 

Tension melted away, although more than once several at the table looked to an empty seat. Castiel spotted it from the hunter once in particular, reaching over to put a hand on his arm. “He’s on his own path right now.” The angel reassured simply, though Dean still felt a particular emptiness in Sam’s absence.

As the day’s events wrapped, Castiel shook Henry’s hand and found himself almost trapped in John’s grip with a pressured stare before releasing; Mary was warmer with her firm hug, which she shared with Dean once John had his go. 

“We’ll be over later.” Mary assured quietly, smoothing down Dean’s hair and framing his face like a proud mother looking at a young boy. “You did so much, Dean. We’re proud of you.”

Despite the high mood, both men deflated with a heavy gust of air once settling into their typical designated Impala seats.

“...That was different.” Castiel said, sounding relieved.

“Yeah. Definitely different.” Dean repeated. “Okay so what now--Roadhouse?”

“One more stop along the way, but it’s not far from it.”

“What else? Seems like everyone else would end up at the Roadhouse anyway.”

“Just drive until you feel like you shouldn’t, Dean.” Apparently the new rule had become that Shotgun picked the music; the driver shut his cakehole as they took through forested wilds.

_Leaves are falling all around_

_It's time I was on my way_

_Thanks to you I'm much obliged_

_For such a pleasant stay_

“Sorry about--you know. The folks.” Dean chuckled off.

“Why?” Castiel sounded genuinely surprised. “It was pleasant.”

_But now it's time for me to go_

_The autumn moon lights my way_

“Yeah but I mean--you know. Dad was kinda... inappropriate.”

“Was he?” Castiel challenged the hunter with a daunting raised brow, lips pursed. The idea of Dean Winchester considering much of anything 'inappropriate' was comedy unto itself.

Dean swallowed. “I mean--”

_For now I smell the rain_

_And with it pain_

_And it's headed my way_

Dean rolled in his lips and muted.

Castiel took his silence as opportunity to speak. “I wouldn’t change anything about what we have if you didn’t want it, Dean. But I certainly wouldn’t oppose it.”

“Cas--” Dean’s voice broke, weary with overthinking. “What is this?”

_Ah, sometimes I grow so tired_

_But I know I've got one thing I got to do_

_Ramble on_

“What do you mean?”

“I mean. This. Us. Why are we the way we are.”

_And now's the time, the time is now_

_To sing my song_

_I'm goin' 'round the world, I got to find my girl_

“Beyond being dangerously self-loathing in life and equally daft? I couldn’t tell you. But I know what we are.” Castiel detected the side glimpse. “Real. Even here. You are my Universe, Dean. And together, we raised the World.”

“I dunno, I just never thought about us as-- whatever you’d call it.”

“Nothing about us is normal, I admit.” Said the male-vesseled self-proclaimed Queen of Heaven embodying the entire world around them as they rolled through neverending dreams in the hunter’s idea of freedom. “You know what I would compare us to?” Dean’s glimpse told the former angel that the hunter had pulled himself out of any embarrassment and was listening. “Have you ever heard of the Band of Thebes?”

Dean’s look said enough. Not the foggiest clue.

_On my way_

_I've been this way ten years to the day_

_Ramble on_

_Gotta find the queen of all my dreams_

Castiel continued.”They were the most fearsome warriors in ancient times. There was a movie called the 300 that was given to the Spartans, but at the end of the day--the true band were the Thebans.” 

Dean wasn’t sure why he was getting a history lesson, but just listened through. The angel rarely spoke without a point, even if it could often be alien to him.

_Got no time for spreadin' roots_

_The time has come to be gone_

_And though our health we drank a thousand times_

_It's time to ramble on_

Castiel recited over the increasingly energetic jive of one of Dean’s two favorite songs resonating through the car, “And if there were only some way of contriving that a state or an army should be made up of lovers and their beloved, they would be the very best governors of their own city, abstaining from all dishonour, and emulating one another in honor;...”

_Ramble on_

_And now's the time, the time is now_

_To sing my song_

_I'm going 'round the world, I got to find my girl_

“...and when fighting at each other's side, although a mere handful, they would overcome the world. For what lover would not choose rather to be seen by all mankind than by his beloved, either when abandoning his post or throwing away his arms? He would be ready to die a thousand deaths rather than endure this. Or who would desert his beloved or fail him in the hour of danger?”

_On my way_

_I've been this way ten years to the day_

_I gotta ramble on_

_I gotta find the queen of all my dreams_

_I ain't tellin' no lie_

“They, greatly outmatched in number by the Spartans, still sent even them to historic and shameful defeat.”

“They kicked the Spartans’ ass?”

“Indeed they did. Handily so.”

"That's... kind of badass."

_Mine's a tale that can't be told_

_My freedom I hold dear_

_How years ago in days of old_

_When magic filled the air_

“They were lovers, and warriors; neither one more than the other.” Castiel finally finished, having earned Dean’s enduring stare and trusting the roads of heaven to guide him more than the idea of his eyes. “Ever since I pulled you out of hell,” he repeated some of the final words Dean heard from him in life. The brightly lit road became grim, murky and lightning cut, underpassing crossways of chains binding one dream to the next, “I found myself unable to ever truly leave you, no matter the battle.”

_'T was in the darkest depths of Mordor_

_I met a girl so fair_

Dean found his gaze snapped back to a blinding light as they drove through the putrid abyss, hearing his own screaming as an eldritch body of light filled his view. 

“And as long as you will have me, in any way you need or want me, I will do and be for you.”

Countless wings and infinite blue eyes cascading from tendrils that formed a hand and enveloped the car, bursting them from white so stark the world became black. The flashing image of an angel spreading his wings in a barn was a sparse frame in his mind to be replaced by blackened goo. Dean wasn't sure if it was the flash of the unknowable divine showing the angel's titanic form, or the more familiar memory he flinched away from and crushed his eyes shut over while driving.

_But Gollum, and the evil one_

_Crept up and slipped away with her_

_Her, her, yeah_

“I am so sorry. For giving you grief, Dean.” the angel's voice called emerald sights back open to the road.

“Cas--”

_Ain't nothing I can do, no_

_I guess I keep on rambling_

_I'm gonna, yeah, yeah, yeah_

_Sing my song (I gotta find my baby)_

_I gotta ramble on, sing my song_

_Gotta work my way around the world baby, baby_

Dean found himself pulling over at the edge of a bridge; a short one over a flowing stream, not the stretch of oceanic eternity that determined a great deal of their prior trip.

Dean parked, draping his arm over the back of the seat, finding his fingers tentatively brushing the collar of the angel’s coat and somehow finding the simple thought of it warm. “Listen, without you--none of this. None of this would have happened. And I mean that. The good way. I’d still be in hell. Or if you didn’t break ranks--I don’t know. Nuked the planet? Any of those other worlds we saw? Cas--you saved the whole world. Maybe the universe, I don’t know. You’re… freakin’ heaven.” Dean couldn’t hide how impressed he was in that sentiment, a burst of exasperated energy betraying his simple understanding of that.

_Ramble on, yeah_

_Doo, doo, doo, doo, doo, my baby_

_Doo, doo, doo, doo_

_Doodoo doodoo doodoo doodoo doodoo_

“Because of you, Dean.”

Dean ground his jaw, gripped his fist on the other side of the angel’s shoulder, and kneaded out his frustration into his palm.

“Are we just gonna’ keep going back and forth about who saved who here?” Dean caught Castiel’s confused look. “I’m trying to come on to you here.”

“...Oh.”

Dean knew well enough from a past heaven trip how very real shared lips could feel. He leaned in cautiously while guiding the angel towards him, finding himself lost in blues just as deep as the cosmic seas they had traveled on the day, noses brushed against each other and neither ready to move. He didn’t know if he was imagining the taste of breath -- everything there was imagined, after all, but--

_I gotta keep searching for my baby_

_(Baby, baby, baby, baby, baby, baby)_

_I gotta keep-a-searchin' for my baby_

_(My, my, my, my, my, my, my baby)_

_Yeah yeah, yeah yeah, yeah yeah yeah_

“Dean--” Castiel interrupted, eyes flitting down as far as his vision would allow.

The angel leaned away and escaped his grip, leaving Dean looking momentarily shattered, “What, was that--”

“Later.”

_I can't find my bluebird_

_I listen to my bluebird sing_

_I can't find my bluebird_

_I keep rambling, baby_

_I keep rambling, baby_

“Outside.” The angel directed the dizzied hunter. “You won’t regret it.”

Dean was very tempted to argue that, but uprighted himself and popped open his car door as the final rambles faded out of the radio.

He approached the bar of the bridge, sensing the angel at his flank--closer, even, than in the car moments before.

The view was unmatched. He reached out his arm, squeezed narrowly under the angel’s own to grip the railing and hold his old friend there to watch the flowing waters. 

Dean couldn’t help but admire the endless hills and unyielding mightiness of the distant mountains; even seasonal plants seemed unbelievably evergreen, and the water itself had a meditative quality. 

Dean sensed something--something else than the silent angel admiring the distance with him. 

He knew without as much as looking. The corners of his eyes crinkled as he nodded into a small grin, turning to glance back.

Sam Winchester stood in his hoodie, shrugging with a familiar awkward grin.

They shared a strong, fraternal hug. For one, it had been decades; for another, an eternity and yet only a few short trips. Despite that, it was like they were never separated.

“I think we have some catching up to do.” Sam squeaked out.

“Yeah. But come on.” Dean returned to the banister--this time slinging one arm around his brother. “Pretty fantastic, right?”

Sam side-eyed, lips turning smugly, “Should have known you’d be spending the time with Cas here.”

Dean popped his brows; but he didn’t say anything. He shouldn’t have been surprised that Sam might have wanted to see the angel. Maybe their connection was somehow different, but no less war-hardened.

Castiel nodded. "I'll give you two time to catch up."

Eileen hadn’t left the life; Dean, frankly, was surprised Sam had. He clarified that he helped her mostly from home, working on networks and intel while she took over the bunker for herself for the very few remaining cases. It had become a transit hub for the Sioux Falls women more than anything, and the various others exposed to the truth while cleaning up the final loose ends and untamed monsters. Unfortunately, one such case took Eileen away when their son was only a few years old.

“Son?” Dean chuffed.

“Yeah. Named him Dean. Since there was already a Sam and a Cas, right?” 

“Sure. That’s why.” 

“Wait, there’s a Cas?” The angel, having enjoyed the sentiment of watching them from afar, simply suddenly-was behind them.

“Oh, right.” Dean chuckled. “Garth named his kids after you and Sam.”

Castiel was moved, but only briefly.Curiosity came next. “Then where’s Eileen?” Castiel pried.

“She’s been road tripping with me up here and showing me around. Apparently she’s been trying to find you to talk about making a network to cross-conference with hell so we can talk to Rowena, but she jerry-rigged something up that’ll work until you guys can do something more official? Something about working with Charlie.”

Dean chuffed. “Figures.”

“I just kind of knew I had to stop here, so she dropped me off, said she’d see us later?”

Castiel nodded knowingly, wandering back towards the car while the brothers caught up. They could spend days here without missing a thing and the angel knew that. He would haunt the back seat of the Impala, happy to surrender the front seat for the younger brother to reclaim his place. And, eventually, they would head on.

* * *

The Impala rolled up to the Roadhouse, three heads strong. Boisterous laughter had filled the ride, with Dean sparing nothing to avoid potholes and bounces to test the idea of heavenly shocks. More than one other stop was made, but it was less the where than the who-with. Various mementos filled the back seat from carnival prizes to cowboy boots, at least one heavenly drive thru had filled the car’s cupholders and Sam was grinning past the candy bar he nearly finished as the Impala swerved into the lot ahead of the bar.

Sam and Dean could identify a few other vehicles: Bobby’s old Pinto which still looked like a piece of crap in heaven--a much loved piece of crap; Eileen’s old Mustang, and more. 

“Guess this is the shindig.” Dean shrugged.

“Did you just call it a ‘shindig’?” Sam jeered playfully.

“Shaddap.”

The doors opened, leaving Team Free Will to approach the rowdy bar. The sounds of the jukebox poured through open doors as did clinking glasses and moving bodies. 

_I rode into town today... in my mind, I said 'Lord I'd like to stay'.._

_Something in me said boy, move on._

It was distinctly different from the quiet scene Dean had first wandered up towards, given Bobby still seemed planted on his porch stoop with a beer. “Hey kids. Everyone’s been waiting for you.” He nodded the brothers inside and locked his eyes on Castiel. “And half of heaven’s been waiting for you.”

_Don't know what it is the good lord bred it in my bones._

“You could say the whole of my attention was elsewhere.” Castiel tersely replied.

Bobby shot a knowing glance to Dean. “Yeah, I bet.”

The hunter himself was distracted, finding a bone-deep familiarity with the country tune pouring through the door as much as the image of the bar inside; one might call it the Roadhouse, but the signage, the lighting and the decor were a whole new world of its own.

_And I'm searchin for a rainbow, and if the wind ever shows me where to go,_

_you'd be waiting at the end and I know, I'd see the hill with that pot of gold._

_I'd see the hill with that pot of gold_

As they stepped in, Dean came back to reality and muttered a question, “Bobby can see you?”

Sam decided not to query, doing what he did best--using context clues to observe.

“Here, everyone can. Like I said. I refurbished the Garden. This is mine.”

_This old mount I'm ridin', she's gettin' kinda' tired,_

_But in my heart she knows there's this one desire._

_She's gonna' take me to the end of our road._

“Wait,” Dean cut in, pointing at the floor. “ _This_ is Heaven’s Garden?”

“HEYYYY!” A familiar voice cut in from across the crowd, causing the trio to whip to look towards Ash cleaning glasses at the bar. “Dean Winchester. The godslayer. Heard you died getting nailed from behind.”

“I--”

Ellen crossed by, carrying a platter towards a table of familiar faces-- Rufus, among others, with them. “Everyone knew it’d be like that, honey..”

“DOES EVERYBODY KNOW?” he hollered loud enough to cut most of the room’s din short of the jukebox.

_Then she'll lay down and die and I'll say 'God rest her soul'_

_And I'm searchin for a rainbow, and if the wind ever shows me where to go,_

_you'd be waiting at the end and I know,_

Rufus glanced up from his pitcher. “Yeah. Your angel there was salty about your long-assed death speech without calling a damn ambulance and put it out in the Celestial Times."

Dean shot an accusatory look to the angel, who looked flatly unruffled. 

...Fair.

"He was up in here yellin' 'look out for the spike!' and 'call an ambulance'. Ever see heaven try to get out of heaven? That's some funny shit.”

_I'd see the hill with that pot of gold._

_I'd see the hill with that pot of gold_

Pamela whisked by, dropping a newspaper on the nearest table to Dean. He picked it up, reading.

“Damnit, Cas.” He threw it down, oversnapping his bravado to betray his embarrassment. It didn’t last long, because the wryness he spotted in the angel’s eyes was enough to make him crack a grin.

The unerring timeless bar was rich in celebration; remembering grand stories in life in a far more bustling and diverse array. Sam ended up seated at a table with Eileen, who happily signed alongside her speaking. Eileen, Castiel explained, never really perceived sound in the world and it wasn’t a necessary part for her soul to enjoy being. There was nothing wrong with it. She was complete. 

Dean recognized other faces through the doors in time. Jody, Donna, Claire, Alex and the others all taking a large corner table.

“When did they die?” Dean asked at his private window-table with Castiel, eyeing many others--Garth and Bess; Missouri; Victor, even.

“Each on their own time.” Castiel explained, “But when the garden calls, we leave the door open for everyone. They’ll always be here when ready. All of them will. Some part is always here, save for when I have to close it now and then.”

“Don’t Ellen and Jo run it?”

Castiel chuckled. “Actually, their heaven is with William. Jo’s father. They’re free to help here as much as they like though.” Castiel looked at his own hand resting on the table before inching his fingers closer to Dean. “That’s actually something I wanted to speak to you about.”

Dean’s gaze went down to the brushing fingers, turning his hand palm-up so as to curl into the others. 

Castiel took that as accepting the rest to follow. “It’s about Jack. He’s taken it upon himself to help here and maintaining earth both.” Castiel found the hunter searching his eyes. “I want him… to live a life, Dean. More than a few years in the bunker with three confused old men. To go to school. To find more family.” The ex-angel read slow understanding and open empathy in Dean’s eyes. “I know you wouldn’t have put that on him if you had any other way. And he was happy to help. But I thought… maybe if you could stay around the garden and take ownership with me--”

Dean nodded through while thumbing over the angel’s hand, pacing his words with each head-bounce, “Then the kid could go and find his own way.” He finished. “You’re right, doesn’t seem fair for him to help find everyone else’s when he doesn’t know much of his yet.”

Dean turned to look back. “Where is he, anyway?”

“Busy. But he’ll come if you call. I just imagined we could protect this place as Regents to lift the burden of obligation from him.”

“Yeah… guess I know too well how much it can mess someone up to have your parents’ problems dropped on you. Okay… so I just hang out here then? I think I can handle that.”

“Welllll…” Castiel slid his hand away from Dean. “As of right now, this is still my domain. I can let people in, but there isn’t much you can do by way of controlling it.”

“Ooookay?” Dean made clear he wasn’t following.

“And while I would happy to have Saint Dean, the Bouncer of Heaven’s Gates keeping everything running right here, I just thought we might want to share it?”

“Okay.” Dean repeated, shorter this time. “Like I said, I’ll stay.”

“Dean, how does one claim a throne?”

Dean furrowed his brows. “I dunno, taking it like you did? Inheriting it? Or-- Oh.” a pause. _“Oh. You mean,”_ he gestured between them.

“Of course. If you’ll have it. I can think of no better representative of humanity and their right to freedom than you. Man and the divine, together, one supreme time, and forever.”

Dean was certain he didn’t entirely understand the weight or consequence of that proposal, but he understood the basics. His mind wrapped around it, simplistically, as the world’s strangest marriage proposal. “How--how does that even work here? Do--do we find a priest?”

“Dean. I am literally the highest power in the land, shared only with our son.”

“So… Jack?”

Castiel rolled his eyes, stood, and grabbed Dean’s hand.

“Hey!” Mary called out as Castiel dragged Dean stumbling through the crowd. “Where you going?”

“Upstairs.” Castiel growled.

Jo stopped near the door. “We have an upstairs?”

“We do now.” Was the last anyone would hear of them for a while as a door slammed.

* * *

Dean rolled onto his back beneath the covers, bare. He wasn’t sure why he could sweat in heaven, much less seem that lacking of air. The large, cushioned bed was more of a bean bag than anything and had certainly taken getting used to. He was certain this couldn’t entirely be Castiel’s mental build. The hanging draped beads over doors in the upstairs apartment, the patterned mats and varied candles all threw him to older, alternate days--timelines the angel in this form had never seen. Low burning lamps on chests for dressers and aged wood somehow felt too natural.

“That was… different.” Dean huffed.

He wouldn’t lie and pretend he’d never laid with a strong, muscled form next to him before. But there was something different of two souls binding into one; an energy, a force and a passion that--while easily recalling the heat of lust and dire needs of release came with an entirely different charge.

“Hopefully not terrible.” Groggy blue eyes and mussed hair blinked at Dean with dazed grin.

“No--no. It’s--wow. Okay.” Dean searched the ceiling and its bizarre antler chandelier design for some sort of answer. “Man why didn’t we ever do that on earth?”

“I believe you would say: Because we are a couple of dumbasses.”

“Right.” Dean still scoured the ceiling, balancing his breath. “Less dumb. Lots of ass. So that’s--that’s it? We just… bone the knot and--”

Castiel nestled deeper into his pillow. “We can be everywhere and do anything, Dean. We never have to leave.”

“What?”

“You thought about going downstairs. Part of you is back down there with the rest now. Some of you went off with your brother to see where he was going to build. And part of you--” he also looked ceilingbound, although his more seemed to look for answers from hidden stars, “Is currently visiting your dad’s childhood hot dog stand dream to see how much you can eat.”

“So… we’re just… here… forever? Doing… this?”

“As long as you want to, Dean. All of Heaven is yours.”

“I’m--yeah. I’m good with that.” Dean tucked his lips and chin in content surrender, only to find himself being rolled on top of by a shaggy-haired, stubble-faced and blue-eyed warrior.

They lost themselves, this time with Dean deciding a nice track of _Bad Company_ should be their accompaniment. 


	5. Epilogue: We Are

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's not goodbye, it's "I'll see you later."

Sam and Dean both came to discover the apiary behind the Roadhouse, and the _garden_ part of the Garden.

The family sat amidst ample and fertile greens and floral arrays of all colors, shaded pleasantly by trees of all shapes and sizes and the sun warmly beaming through. The weather was perfect--and always would be. 

When Dean scoffed at the predictability of the ex-angel wanting to be a beekeeper, Castiel had explained to Dean that in some forms of theosophy, the soul was represented by bees. And, with souls being grown in the Garden, the new Occultum and Throne, the young and fresh ones deserved a quiet place to take their first form and work in harmony. 

“So… you’re… giving birth to a bunch of bees?”

“You can call me Queen Bee.”

...Dean had flinched at that one. Eileen judgingly signed a “Bad” to Sam, who smirked.

But the family settled in over blankets and sheets, endless loaves and shares from picnic baskets. Sam and Eileen shared their given mat. John, and Mary theirs. Castiel more often worked with the hives than settling in with Dean, who occasionally drifted in and out to bring drinks. There was a knowing that Dean Junior might be there, or might come; but no one was in any rush for him to make it there. His place was set and ready for the future and whoever he might bring with him. 

There was no true concept of time, or passing, or anywhere to be or anything to do. Just laughter, and old tales, and the weaving of new ones. Food fights; a brief winter and snow forts gone as quickly as it never-was--though Dean distinctly remembered the angel pounding a tree and tumbling a mountain of snow down onto him. But truly, spring felt timeless. 

The longer Dean Was, the longer he understood; he could still feel the road rumbling under his feet. He could still feel the angel’s heat against his neck and on occasion may have uncomfortably shifted with a flustered look. He opted out of considering if his parents had those same moments sitting there among them. He felt the burst of distantly riding some mechanical horse, and the wind in his hair in what ranch he had established next door for himself in the shadow of the mountains.

The world truly came into focus as a young, blonde figure took center presence in their grotto.

“Jack?” both brothers sounded off, raising in sync. Castiel looked over from his mason jars filled with honeyed ambrosia, smiling.

“...Hello.” Jack raised his hand, as calmly as before. 

Each brother took their turn with a hugging reunion of the boy-god. He hadn’t appeared to age a day.

“So uh--” Sam brushed down the back of his hair. “Great work with the place here.”

“I guess. Just had to open the doors, really.”

Sam nodded that away, before glancing at Dean. Even in spirit he could read his brother like a book, and the older hunter clearly had something to say. Sam took a step back to give berth.

“Hey, uh, Jack.” Dean rubbed the back of his neck, drawing his attention. “First off. Thanks for… everything, really.”

“Of course.”

Sometimes it chilled Dean how much of a boyish shadow of Castiel the nephilim could be. “Yeah uh--anyway. I feel like we kind of jipped you on the earth-thing.”

“I can still visit.” Jack offered helpfully.

“Yeah, but that’s not what I mean. You know. You never really got to go to school. Or… build your own family, or whatever.”

Jack chirped without even looking back at the group, “I have a family.” he offered a far cheerier counterpart to something Dean once told John.

“Yeah, but I mean--” He sighed. “You know. Spread your wings. Live on your own time, even if it’s in your own world. Find someone you want to bring home to us, you know?”

“Oh, like you found Cas.”

Dean paused, “Yeah, I guess.”

“I don’t know if I really feel like I need to find anyone. Besides, I need to help out around here, Cas is already carrying this place. Literally.”

“Yeahhhh uh, about that.” Dean cleared his throat. “We uh, found a way for me to help out with that.”

Jack looked curious.

“I’m gonna help Cas keep this place together until you’re ready to come back. Or if you ever are. It’s cool here anyway. Got my car, a bar, everyone I know. But you can go and… I dunno. Find something. Someone.”

“It… would be weird, though. Without you here.”

Castiel hopefully offered aside, “If the union only requires us, one could make use of nonlinear time to re-enter at a point others you would know are there.”

Dean let out a ‘Huh?’, but Jack understood perfectly. “Oh! You’re right. I could go back to when Sam’s still there.”

Dean looked confused, “Does that mean Sam leaves heaven?”

“A little bit.” Jack smiled. 

“How do you leave heaven A Little Bit?”

“Well, he’s always going to be here. Every human that could ever Be is here. But most of his Being would be on earth. He won’t be able to travel all over like the rest of you, but he could find somewhere to settle down.”

“I can _hear you_.” Sam spoke up from the back. “Do I get a say in this?”

“Hold on a second, Sam.” Dean looked thoughtful. “So what happens then? An alternate timeline?”

“That’s how the others happened.” Castiel pointed out while approaching with a pair of Margiekugel bottles in hand, passing one to Dean.

Sam hesitated. “I mean it’s up to what Eileen wants, really.” He conceded. “If I didn’t forget this… maybe we could avoid losing her in the hunt. Have our kid… grow up with his mom instead of a Nanny. Not that I’m going to.. Nail her down into momming or whatever.”

Dean nodded long thoughtfully. “Talk it out with her and see what she thinks. You know where to find us.”

“Okay?” Jack looked between them, “I’m gonna go back to… Jod things.” Jack pointed awkwardly over his shoulder, turned, and disappeared into the aether.

* * *

When Castiel had said the Garden sometimes closed its doors, Dean hadn’t really understood or asked why. He found out eventually, when Sam gave news that Eileen was ready to talk. “Harvelle’s”--in name only--shuttered its gates and even Saint Bobby on the steps finally packed up his box and moved on to whatever it was a Bobby did in the Great Beyond.

The roadhouse was calm, but still not empty. Even the few souls in it gave it life. Without the endless bustle, there was a sense of security--like being in the safest place in the world.

Four souls sat down at a comfortable booth, dividing drinks in two pairs across to either couple.

“We’re in.” Sam led once all beers were cracked.

“But,” Eileen’s distinct voice cut through while stirring her drink, eyes shifting from Sam to Dean and Castiel, “Only if you come too.”

Dean and Cas both deferred their gaze in opposite directions.

“What?” Sam countered.

“Sam. Even if I wanted to, I can’t leave heaven.” Castiel simplified. 

“Dude, he _is_ Heaven.” Dean cut to the chase more firmly.

“What?” Sam repeated, brows furrowing in a loud attempt to catch a wifi signal to try to run that one through google.

“Yeah, long story, trust me.” Dean put up a hand, cutting it through the air to chop the cord on that conversation, “Don’t try to understand. Just think Rowena and hell and leave it there.”

“Ooookay.”

Eileen realized she was not, in fact, reading lips. “I see.” She looked hopefully at Dean, fully expecting that to be Sam’s dealbreaker.

Dean read that. “It’s not even just about that, okay? Jack got thrown into this. We honestly should have figured out a way to stop Chuck without turning him into Jod or whatever.” Dean framed out, focusing his eyes on his bottleneck as he tipped it to and fro to stim. “We even said it ourselves a few months before we went that route. He wasn’t really ready for this.”

“It seems like he’s doing a good job.” Eileen nodded vigorously in approval. “It’s great here.”

Dean glanced to see if Castiel had much to add; but apparently, the angel was going to leave the hunter to make his own decision. “Look.” he turned back to Saileen, “My whole life… I was doing work because dad put that on me. On us, mostly, but--”

“--but you had to raise me, too.”

Dean tipped his head in acknowledgement and kept rolling. “I was maybe Jack’s age when the whole world got put on my shoulders. Then we turned around and did it to him. Now he’s out there wandering the earth like Cain from Kung Fu or whatever just to hold it up. And while I don’t think we can fix the ‘holding earth together’ part, I think he deserves better to live in it.”

“I mean, nothing’s stopping him, Dean--”

“He walked away, Sam. We let him walk away, and we didn’t stop him. He still deserved a life, a family. I dunno, to go to school and have a stupid first crush.”

Sam quieted, “I dropped the ball not finding him, huh…”

“Listen,” Dean cut in, “I’m not here to point fingers at where we messed up. But what I can say is--Jack’s been working his ass off keeping Earth online and helping Cas around this place. And he’s not going to stop the other part if I walk out.”

“So, what, you’re gonna… rule heaven now?”

Dean grimaced at the sound of that.

Castiel spoke up. “Regents. Protecting the throne until Jack is ready, if he ever will be. Heaven’s functions have changed. Man should honestly rule. And while I may be Soul instead of Grace now, I can’t call myself Humanity’s Representative.”

Dean flashed a boyish grin of apology.

“Dean’s wed into ownership of the Garden at this point. All rites that come with it are his.”

“Wed?” Sam and Eileen echoed.

Dean rubbed the back of his neck. “If that’s what you call it, yeah.”

Sam raised a challenging brow, as if expecting the elder brother to brush something under the carpet. “What would you call it?”

Dean raised his chin. “Having some eternal banger sex just over your head.”

“DUDE!” Sam broke out. “EW! WHAT?”

“You asked,” Dean casually shoved a bundle of fries in his face, chewing through it while Eileen smirked and eyeballed either of them.

“Okay--so you can’t go back. What do you think, Sam?” she took charge.

“I think--” he took her hand, “We should do it. And do it right. I’m not saying I want you to get out of the Life. But we can build something better, closer. Safer. We had something good going on there, we can do more with that. Just no more pointless deaths. I’m so tired of losing people.”

“At least you know they’ll be in good hands when they’re gone.” Dean pointed out across the table, elbow propped on the back of the booth. 

“So basically… we go back and raise… Jod.”

“Your turn to be Mary and Joseph.” Dean snarked back. 

“And at least this time, King Herod is dead.” Castiel added his idea of humor to it, causing a few perplexed looks.

...Dean rolled on. “Passing the ball to you, champ.” Sam grinned nervously. “Look, I’ve seen you. Even before whatever you did your first run. You’re ready for that. More than we ever were, that’s for sure.”

Sam and Eileen shared a look, then glanced back to Dean. “Alright,” Sam took the first step. “I think we’ll go back. With Jack.”

“Cool.” Dean poked his fry in his sauce, glancing over to Cas, then the others.

“Glad to see you two finally worked something out.” Sam grinned crookedly. He paused. “So wait, if you two right now--” he gestured between both of them. “Does that mean mom and dad?”

“Yes.”  
“Yup.”

“Oh, gross!” Sam shoved his own plate away.

“What, are you two not banging it out yet?” Dean’s forehead crinkled unevenly in disbelief.

“No! I don’t know! Are we?” Sam looked to Eileen, who shrugged. “We were kind of busy, Dean!”

“Heh Yeah, so are we.”

“Dean!”

Eileen succumbed to laughter.

Sam still stumbled through questions. "Wait, if he's heaven, and you're-- and we're in-- oh god get me out of here."

“Guess you’ll have to figure that one out next time. But first, before _anybody_ goes--” Dean cleaned his hands on a wadded up napkin and rose to stand, “We’re gonna throw ourselves a real kegger. Just the four of us.”

The tables were cleared aside to leave plenty of room. Dean didn’t miss the opportunity to embarrass Sam the same his mother had him. Given, it was unfortunate for Eileen to miss half the joke as Dean dramatically silent-screamed out the chords of “My Heart Will Go On” as punishment for Sam flaying him at darts. 

Couples-pool lasted hours of the night. Dean himself may have been a master poolsmith, but Eileen and Sam’s solid play left no room for Castiel’s novice hand. That, and Dean may have been more than distracted with taking his chance to teach him _posture_ and _grip_. More than once, Sam had to clear his throat to remind them that the pair had easily taken several minutes ‘lining up a shot’ to the point of discomfort. In the end, Sam and Eileen won the gamble, and Dean and Cas won everything else.

“Wow.” Sam commented from the side as he watched his brother and the heavenly vessel’s lips work each other heatedly while leaning against the table, apparently spry as teenage lovebirds. “Just--right in front of my salad.”

Dean broke long enough to mutter a “shut up, Sam” aside, the angel pressing forehead against the side of his head in full surrender with his hip crooked over the table.

“What, you’re just gonna have every version of you banging out eternity?”

“I dunno, maybe.” Dean dismissed while nosing along the angel’s jawline shamelessly, from ear towards neck. 

“Yheah, okay, making up for lost time. Guess that’s our cue to go.”

Dean snapped up a hand, holding up one finger demanding a moment of attention even while delaying freeing his lips from Castiel's for a few more seconds.

Finally, they parted. “Nah, we ain’t had the big bang yet.”

“Pretty sure we don’t want whatever kind of Big Bang you guys are gonna get up to.”

“Oh heyyyy, come on, Sammy.” Dean threw his arms wide open, inviting his brother to reconsider. “One more night, in the garden out back. “We’ll get Jack on board. I’ve got some ideas. But for now,” Dean slammed the jukebox, kicking off Zeppelin’s _Celebration Day._

_Her face is cracked from smiling_

_All the fears that she's been hiding_

_And it seems that pretty soon, everybody's gonna know_

Dean readily fed into the song, pointing in command to Sam and Eileen while mouthing the lyrics in far too much exaggeration and coasting further into the room and past them. Eileen didn’t have to hear the song to itself to feel the vibration and the rhythm rattling the walls, casting Sam a long-upwards look of invitation.

_And her voice is sore from shouting_

_Cheering winners who are losing_

_And she worries if their days are few and soon they'll have to go_

Dean hopped his way up onto the shallow stage, stealing the idle mic stand and making unnecessarily sweet love to it with a long raking finger up its length while continuing his exaggerated lipsync and pointing out to the others, curling up his fingers to invite them in.

_My, my, my, I'm so happy_

_I'm gonna join the band_

_We gonna dance and sing in celebration_

_We are in the promised land_

Dean may have been owning that a little too well, readily moving to the groove. Eileen was quickest to join him, moving with the flow of good old booty-bounce against him. Sam and Castiel stood off to the side, the latter of which found himself yanked in by the tie with one commanding grip for the most unusual serenade to his face.

_She hears them talk of new ways_

_To protect the home she lives in_

_Then she wonders what it's all about when they break down the door._

“C’mon Sam!” Eileen made sure to shake in the most preposterous wiggle to challenge him forward, ensuring no performance he gave might be worth the shame. He laughed, reached out, and found himself pulled in.

Ironically, none of them seemed to notice the company quietly wandering in the back, carrying a crate to the counter.

Dean was too busy poking Castiel’s coat and suit and shirt in order,

_Her name is brown or white or black_

_You know her very well,_

_You hear her cries of mercy as the winners toll the bell._

Dean tossed the offline mic to Sam, who captured it from the air; and Dean himself pretended the stand still carried it, leaning in to trumpet with a brother who found himself surrendering to the raw energy of it in silent-duet.

_My my my I'm so happy_

_We gonna join the band_

_We are gonna dance and sing in celebration_

_We're in the promised land._

As the short guitar solo ripped through, they danced with the careless grace and vigor that only four white people with no one around them to judge them could muster, nothing resembling a particular style as much as Eileen’s shimmies against Sam or the broad-shouldered moose of a man doing shoulder shakes that kept him _securely_ within the invisible box, his torquing lips and energetic face doing more dancing than the other six and a half feet of him.

_Oh, there is a train that leaves the station_

_Heading for your destination_

_But the price you pay to nowhere has increased a dollar more_

_Yes, it has!_

Castiel, finally kidnapped into the moment, went less for the jazzy-rock-shuffle and instead stole away Dean’s hand as he had once in a black and white dream, snaring him in abruptly out of his fake performance and giving one close-chested, daunting leer of warning before testing the threshold of the stage in tango-swing.

_And if you walk you're gonna get there_

_And though it takes a little longer_

_And when you see it in the distance you will wring your hands and moan_

_Oh yeah, you'll moan_

Dean narrowly missed discovering how much falling from a stage might hurt in a dancing trust fall subject to the angel who went so far as to take a knee nearly tipping him from the edge. Dean, viewing the world from upside down, realized in brief pause of motion that he saw something-- someone.

“Jack?”

One simple word cutting through sobered Sam instantly,though Eileen, still facing the other way, found herself kidnapped into the groove and completely missing the angel frozen in time with the hunter angling from the stage. Nobody stop her now, she’s still having the time of her life shaking that Thing.

_Oh, yeah-yeah-yeah-yeah-yeah, you'll moan, you'll moan_

_You're g-gone, you're g-gone, yeah-yea_

_You're g-gone_

“Um… hello!” Jack raised his hand to greet them, bright eyed. “I was just bringing in a few of the bees that were getting glowy so Cas could figure out what to do with them.” 

Castiel who was, frankly, still on one knee with the tilted hunter subject to his whims.

He rose, bringing Dean with him. The hunter dusted himself off and straightened his jacket while the music played on and out. 

_My, my, my, my, my, my, my, my, my, my, my you are gone_

_You're gone_

_My, my, my_

_You're gonna, gonna get there, it's just a little longer_

Eileen finished her shimmy-around, realizing the other three had stopped--and they had company. She blinked a few times, looked at Jack and the other three--and quickly assessed this was likely not her conversation. At this rate, she would have a lifetime to get to know the boy better, but the others were the ones who had raised him. She shuffled off the stage and returned to the jukebox. Naturally she knew little of the songs there, so she simply slammed it like Dean had before to resummon the last song to vibe with--literally. And with that she was on her way towards the back, matching Dean’s early point-leading rockin’ glide.

“Hey, Jack.” Sam said softly, shoving his hands in his pockets.

“What’s going on?”

“Well,” Castiel dared to interject cautiously. “Dean’s decided to help me stay and run things,” Castiel reminded. “And Sam and Eileen have agreed to go back to earth with you.” There was a nearly motherly gentleness that tended to take the ex-angel when he spoke to the nephilim.

“But… that means I have to say goodbye to you.” Pleading eyes looked at Castiel, then shifted to Dean. Ultimately they resettled on the angel.

“Yes. But goodbye isn’t forever. You know that. And sometimes, the eagle needs to spread its wings.”

“But what will I do?”

“That’s kinda the point, kid.” Dean inserted. “You get to figure that out. Only rule is, no powers, no using your hoodoo stuff to fix things. Like you said, hands off. Do it like the rest of us.”

“Okay.” He still looked dejected.

Dean frowned. “Look. We’re all heading out back tonight, as a family. And we’re gonna use that big open sky to watch all the best things we remember, okay? And that?” Dean poked a finger into Jack’s chest, “That’s gonna stay with you. Right here. You hear me?”

“Like… god.”

“Like god.”

Jack nodded, seeming to internalize that, and sharing a smile of acceptance up at Dean. Dean still saw sadness in his eyes, but that came with any goodbye.

* * *

The core family piled out into the rear garden. By command, the branches parted to expose the sky. They laid out five wide--each brother to the side of Jack, and their partners beside them-- on the small descending hill as a recliner 

Dean had chosen to begin the night with the same thing his first remembered trip to heaven started with. The group inclined forward when they realized the show began on the ground.

Two young boys stood at the end of the field. 

_‘Come on, let’s go!’_ a pubescent Sam, carrying a crate of fireworks, looked alive as he ran ahead to start placing them on the ground.

He looked up expectantly to the older brother just shy of adulthood who stood in a familiar leather jacket. _‘Got your lighter?’_

Young Dean checked his pockets, fishing out a lighter.

 _‘Fire ‘em up!’_ each brother lit, taking the steps back before rainbow fire burst into the sky, reflecting memories in five sets of eyes--new to some.

“I remember this.” Sam mused, none too differently than Dean years ago. “I think that was 1996. Fourth of July.” 

“Yup.”

_‘Dad would never let us do anything like this. Thanks, Dean. This is great.’_

The young one latched on, squeezing tight. Soon, young Sam pulled away, lighting the fireworks and running away. _‘Fire in the hole!!’_

Young Sam danced in the falling sparks, and Dean admired like a proud father. This time, the memory wasn’t violently interrupted. 

And cinema played on--dark silhouettes in surprise combat in a shoddy dorm room; ouija hospital runs and roadside arguments. Flash run-ins with the Trickster, movie set hauntings, ghostfacers and drunk-santa-hunting christmases. Fairy tales and the gaffes of unlucky rabbit's feet and lost shoes; and Sam seeing for the first time what Dean had witnessed the day he met Castiel--apparently, showering sparks none too different from the fireworks, open fire and chest stabbings were still greatest hits.

Sam looked over, “You got anything to add, Cas?”

They shared the sky that night.

Monster movies and hiding from phobias laid out jamming to the eye of the tiger in the impala were interspersed with quiet bench conversations.

_‘Can I tell you something if you promise not to tell another soul?_

_I’m not a… hammer as you say. I have questions, I have doubts.’_

Dean found himself leaning into the angel, whispering feigned criticism, “This is a good memory for you?”

_‘For the first time… I feel.’_

_‘My… superiors have begun to question my sympathies.’_

_‘Your sympathies?’_

_‘I was getting too close to the humans in my charge. You. They feel I've begun to express emotions._

_The doorways to doubt. This can impair my judgment.’_

“And boy did it.” Sam chuckled from the side.

“Shaddap,” Dean waved down.

Mistakes made with sirens; untold stories of worlds that never were with Smith & Wesson. Jack silently took it all in, watching silently. He witnessed the day his father fell in every way imaginable. Dean saw it through new eyes as well--and more, truly saw himself as the angel looked into him that day. A spark and a switch seemed to fill the air, sharing with the audience the moment the angel gave himself to man just before the light of banishing played on the nighttime screen.

“That was it, huh.” Dean murmured.

“...Yes.” A memory shift, by no means linear, of the view Castiel had the day he intimately removed Dean’s blade from his pocket in the archives to cut his hand again and paint a similar rune. “That was it.”

Castiel was just as surprised to find his failed exploits at the brothel to rustle up in Dean's memories as a favorite. And Dean, just then discovering how long Castiel watched him--from household duties at Lisa's to their struggles with Crowley. And Castiel, finding how soberly Dean had folded his coat once he was lost to the Leviathan and how he carried that in more ways than one.

Fighting faeries, meeting Charlie; long wars through Purgatory as brothers in arms and brief flirts with domesticity for Sam that left Eileen knowingly eyeing him. Battles with cartoon logic, and nazis, and titans. Sam's knowingness of Artemis' weakness in Prometheus, earning a belated chuckle and nod from Dean.

A whole new perspective for Dean for the battle in the crypt; fields of false-hims executed as flickered distant context, only for the angel's violent refusal. Two sides of a Gas-n-Sip reunion from both pairs of eyes. Dog-Dean and met Waywards. 

Summers of Love with Crowley still had charm. Dean as a child all over again. And Castiel, bonding with Claire. Rowena chiding Castiel privately of being shattered at the altar of Winchester, and his proud declaration of the meaning of family it gave him.

Long rides of two brothers in Baby, wrestlers and chitters and finding partners in the life. Meeting Eileen, who blindsided Sam with magic and cut his hand as a test as their first meeting.

"Wow. You really hit it off." Dean chuffed.

Traded mixtapes, long nights of the angel sitting at the bedside, which Dean often left open. Cowboy cosplay hunts and reunions with the young nephilim. Cartoon buffoonery and Leader Sam Rising. Sam and Dean getting Jack back from death, even if Dean now sat somber realizing the cost.

Dreamed bars that now seemed real; Dean learning how and why Sam wore a cardigan. Game nights and karaoke; reunions with old friends, pool hustles with gods and unlucky wrestling matches. Holidays with the magical maid, and Castiel-- standing in confession.

_‘I used to just follow orders without question, and I did some pretty terrible things._

_I would never look beyond the plan. And then, of course, when it all came crashing down, I found myself lost._

_I didn't know what my purpose was anymore. And then one day, something changed, something amazing._

_I... I guess I found a family, and I became a father. And in that, I rediscovered my faith. I rediscovered who I am.’_

_‘I love you.’_

However many hours or years they spent wading through memories, what they saw, and shared, they knew they would never forget.

Day came when they willed it to. The family gathered at a bridge, the crossing of water. 

“So… you just… make a little dip?” Dean questioned, wondering if it was that simple.

“Yeah. Last time I’ll use powers until I’m back home, pinky swear.” Jack offered.

“No other way to really get this done, is there?”

Everyone awkwardly chuckled. Quiet fell, until Eileen broke it. “So… I guess this is goodbye.”

“It's not goodbye. It's 'I'll see you later'.” Dean affirmed brusquely. “C’mere.” Sam wasn’t leaving without one last firm, brotherly hug that lasted a short eternity of its own, each brother tentative to let go. He slid away. “You do it right this time, you hear me? Don’t worry about here, we’ll hold down the fort. Rowena’s got downstairs. No summoning cosmic space invaders by mistake and we should be good.”

“Yheah.” Sam huffed, hiding tears. “We’re good.”

“Goodbye, Sam.” Castiel offered from the back, pulling from his own enduring hug with Jack. The nephilim was jogging to catch up to Sam and Eileen, only to swerve back and throw himself into a hug with Dean. “Thanks, dad.” 

Dean boggled, hand on the young man’s back. “Yeah--sure… no problem, Jack. I’ll see you later.”

“See you later.”

And with that, they walked into the unknown; or maybe the known. A brief rend in space glowed in orange and rippled open for them to pass through. And like that, they were gone.

Dean took in a breath. “Well…” he looked to Castiel. “Where next?”

“I think there was an amusement park you were considering before this stole your whole soul.”

Dean rubbed his eye, sniffing, though he would swear it was dry. “Yeah. Okay. Let’s go.”

“Dean,” the angel caught his attention on the bridge. The hunter stopped to face him, keys in hand and ready to go but eyes full of questions. “I shouldn’t have stopped you.”

“What?”

“In Purgatory. I heard you. But it wasn’t fair to you. I shouldn’t have stopped you from saying it.”

“Hey. I’m pretty down with the Having and the Being right now. Pretty sure Saying it’s sailed. But you know what, you stupid son of a bitch?”

Castiel furrowed his brows.

“I love you. Now get your glowy ass in the car.”

And on through eternity they rolled.


End file.
